ShitennouxSenshi Shorts
by dutchesscourtney
Summary: AU A series of unconnected short stories centered on the Senshi x Shitennou pairings.
1. Where Duty Begins

**Where Duty Begins**

"Daughter, come to me."

Venus, having recently returned to Magellan Castle for a break from her studies and duties as guard to Princess Serenity, heard a tone in her mother's voice never uttered before. Kneeling gracefully by the great Venusian beauty, she held her breath.

"The time comes." With the announcement, the elder woman pulled out a once magnificent case, now worn, but still of a recognizable quality. With a look of encouragement from her mother, a transfixed Venus opened the box. Inside was a magnificent chain that sparkled radiantly with a life of its own. Multiple hues fractured the light, creating prisms on the walls of the intimate boudoir. The younger senshi was surprised to recognize the energy emanating from the precious artifact. The chain gave off the same incandescence as the Imperium Silver Crystal, wielded by her Highness, Queen Selenity.

"I will tell you the story, my daughter, passed down to me by mother, and her mother before – extending back to the time of the goddess Venus herself."

Always curious about her namesake, Venus settled in to listen.

"In the days when immortals lived among the people, the goddess of love, daughter of the sea, was forced into marriage, commanded to wed Vulcan, the lame god. Knowing of her great desire and lust, the master blacksmith grew wary of his bride. On suspicions from the Sun, Vulcan heard of a liaison between his wife and the powerful god of War. Vowing to catch her in the act, he created a great and powerful net to capture her."

"What happened?"

"Vulcan was successful and trapped Venus and her lover." The older blonde held the glittering chain aloft and said, "This relic is all that remains of that net – a warning of that day."

"I don't understand."

"This chain, now a weapon, stands as a constant and steadfast reminder to our loyalty – may we never misplace it again. Venus made vows to Vulcan, and this chain is a memento that duty should always come before love. Obligation reigns supreme over infatuation. Although we may bestow gifts of passion and affection among others, this is not always a path we may walk. Do you understand, daughter?"

"I do." Venus stood up and firmly clasped the chain around her trim waist, fascinated with how perfect the weight felt, as if it was always meant to be there.

"May you wear and use the chain in honor of our namesake. May you never forget what the weapon truly stands for."


	2. Casablanca Reality

_As he opens the door, she rolls over..._

_Pretends to sleep as he looks her over._

_She lies and says she's in love with him, can't find a better man..._

_She dreams in color, she dreams in red, can't find a better man..._

_Talkin' to herself, there's no one else who needs to know..._

_She tells herself, oh..._

_Memories back when she was bold and strong_

_And waiting for the world to come along..._

_Swears she knew it, now she swears he's gone_.

_She lies and says she's in love with him, can't find a better man..._

_She dreams in color, she dreams in red, can't find a better man..._

- **_Better Man, Pearl Jam (live version = awesome)_**

As a politician's daughter, she understood from a young age that she was going to be a pawn in a larger game, a small piece in a complicated puzzle. Had she been born a male, perhaps she would have had a chance at inheriting the titles or moving into a similar office. Unfortunately, much to her father's chagrin and obvious disappointment, she was born a girl, weaker and incapable of creating the dynasty he so desperately craved.

Without maternal influence or support, she had spent her formative years constantly preparing for life as a politician's spouse. Under the ever-watchful eye of the senior Hino, she perfected her manners, learned the appropriate places to entertain, the correct labels to buy, and engaged in carefully pre-selected and approved activities. Her only source of respite from this bleak existence came from her volunteer work at the local shrine. Her father had surprisingly agreed her charity work was an excellent extracurricular activity…sure to add points to his approval rating.

When it was time for her to marry, she knew it could have been much worse. Kaidou, for all his weaknesses, was at least handsome and kind and did not require much of her. Although obsessed with his own ambition and completely subservient to her father, her husband remembered to dutifully present her with flowers, Casablanca lilies, her favorite, on special dates and anniversaries. She even learned to bear the wifely duties with a semblance of grace and poise, as with all things in her life.

She knew she was lucky…fortunate…

And yet…

The dreams would wake her out of a deep sleep…sweating, impossibly aroused, and unable to return to slumber. Images assailed her senses – a passionate young woman with amethyst eyes like her own, always in the embrace of the same man. She watched jealously as the girl was brought to ecstasy over and over again… Creeping to the main foyer, she would start a large fire and look for him, the man from her dreams. The tousled blonde hair, the ardent blue eyes – she had never met him, but she knew him. He was familiar, but she could not place his countenance.

_Where are you?_ She longed to ask the ghostly image.

_Why have you left me to this life? _ The question hung silently to the imaginary spectre.

_Why won't you come and rescue me…?_

She would repeat the questions, night after night, but never received the answers she was looking for_._


	3. Chain

**Chain  
**

"Where does it come from?"

"What?"

"This." Without asking permission, he quickly reached out and gently fingered the delicate glittering chain between white-gloved fingers, marveling at the intricate craftsmanship and detail that had gone into the object. Was it for decoration or did it hold a more sinister purpose?

"It comes from my home planet… It was a gift."

"From who?"

"No one of importance."

"Truly? Such a special trinket…"

She laughed merrily at his description. Catching his unpleasant look, she explained, "My lord, it is far more than a 'trinket.'"

"What does it do?"

One of her golden eyebrows lifted and she replied, "Pray you never find out."

Months later, on the war-torn surface of the moon, she remembered their conversation and how an eternity had occurred since then. If she could go back and change things, would they still have arrived at this horrible, yet seemingly inevitable fate? Her breath hitched as she summoned her remaining strength and tightened the chain around the neck of her platinum haired opponent, squeezing the last bit of air from his lungs. As her former lover finally ceased his struggle, she expired beside him, the chain still gripped in her hands, cutting deeply into her now lifeless palms.

_AN: This drabble was originally intended to be a study of the chain and its history / legend, but went a little a lot, dark._


	4. Heartbreak Warfare

_"Lightning strikes  
Inside, my chest to keep me up at night  
Dream of ways  
To make you understand my pain._

Clouds of sulfur in the air  
Bombs are falling everywhere  
It's heartbreak warfare  
Once you want it to begin,  
No one really ever wins  
In heartbreak warfare."

**_-John Mayer, Heartbreak Warfare_**

The cloudy impressions came again. Born of stone, created from a small piece of mineral some months earlier, he wondered most days why they had bothered at all. In a never ending series of reincarnations, he had been released from conscious, then one day returned – reborn. Was there a cause for all of it? Was he getting closer to learning the reason? Nearer to atoning for his many sins? To finding the girl with chestnut curls and emerald green eyes?

Rain thrashed the window near his head, and lighting crashed a few blocks away. On these nights, the shadow pain was intense – excruciating…and yet, he welcomed it.

Why?

He settled back, pale blue eyes open, puzzling at the question.


	5. Lunar Tradition

**Lunar Tradition**

In the growing dusk of late summer, an unlikely pair strolled through the lushly scented gardens of the Earth's sprawling palace grounds. Ahead of them - whispering, murmuring, and lost to anyone but themselves were the Crown Princess of the Lunar Kingdom and High Prince of the Earth.

"Will she return the same time next week?"

The blonde looked up, startled at her companion's deep voice and answered, "No. She has court commitments for the holiday."

"Oh?"

Unable to decide if he was being polite or expressing genuine interest, she coolly explained, "The Lunar new year takes place over the weekend."

As the royal pair stopped and sat on a bench, the Venusian senshi and General Kunzite halted and paused in the privacy of a great oak tree, his great cape sweeping aside a wave of leaves, her intricate silver chain swinging gently at her side. Although the interactions between Serenity and Endymion had been limited, both their guardians understood it could be awhile before they moved again.

From the corner of his eye, Kunzite considered the young woman at his side, dropped into his life from the heavens above. She was unlike any one he had ever met - he detected a great intelligence, overwhelming loyalty, and deep strength in his counterpart.

Defaulting to her court manners, she politely questioned, "When is your new year celebrated?"

"On the deepest and coldest day of Winter."

Descended from an eternally warm climate, she visibly shuddered at the suggestion and he chuckled softly at her obvious distaste. Indulging his curiosity, he asked, "How do you celebrate?"

"Representatives from all over the solar system arrive to exchange and renew important commitments for the year ahead. After all of the official meetings and politics are completed, there is a grand ball held until dawn."

He noted that her blue eyes warmed and twinkled brightly at the description. Enjoying this new side of her, he questioned, "Do you incorporate any special customs from your home planet?"

She looked ahead at her regent and answered lightly, "We do."

When she didn't elaborate, he wondered if he had offended her. It was difficult to determine where he stood with her. On Earth, his interaction with the fairer sex was limited and until now, their conversations had been rather confined to the topics of security and discretion.

She turned to look at him directly and continued, "When the final grain of sand floats away, and the great hourglass is reset for the new year, it is a token of good luck and fortune to share a kiss."

A short time later, Venus joined Serenity and they returned to the shining satellite above. Kunzite looked up to the sky. He thought of his conversation with the warrior and princess from Earth's twin planet. Was he imagining things, or did he detect a hint of a challenge in her voice? Closing his eyes, an unbidden image crept into his mind. Venus, in a luxurious ballroom, adorned in a clinging, shimmering gold dress, blonde tresses floating softly around her exposed shoulders and back. Who would she embrace? Did she have someone waiting for her now? He clenched his jaw forcefully and realized, hastily...

"What are you thinking of?" Endymion interrupted his thoughts.

"A suggestion, my lord." The words tumbled out, a surprise to their speaker.

"Yes?"

"Perhaps a visit to the Moon is needed. I've been informed there is a celebration shortly. I believe there is much to learn about Lunar culture by our attendance."

"I'll take that into consideration, Kunzite."


	6. Platinum Stubble

**Platinum Stubble**

"What are you doing?" She asked, blue eyes wide as she made her way into his private bathing room.

"Shaving." Their eyes met in the looking glass and he looked away first, slightly intimidated by the intensity reflected back at him.

"Why?"

"Do men not do this where you come from?"

She thought to herself, about her former lovers and the intimate moments they had shared. Suddenly, they faded away like the foamy bubbles in the basin before him.

"No. They are all," she struggled to find the correct word in his language, "smooth."

"Which do you prefer?"

She looked at him again, at the hard edges of his jaw, at the prickly silver bits that remained to be trimmed. She inhaled deeply, smelling the arousing musky smell of his soap, and blushed, remembering the delicious sensation of his scratchy shadow earlier in the morning and how it had felt against her inner thighs. "Yours."


	7. The Sculptor

_AN: This is part of a University-verse I'm working on._

Surprisingly, Keith Logan enjoyed teaching far more than he originally thought he would. What had started as a semester favor to a friend had grown into a tenured position in the school of art. While there were not many universities that had a program dedicated solely to the art of classical sculpture, Keith excelled in the environment, creating a safe place for students to study, grow and learn the discipline.

Working with some of his more advanced students, he looked forward to the new semester. As Keith favored classical techniques and continued anatomical studies, the small group of students met on the first day of the semester for sketching session. Keith arrived early, as usual, to meet the class model. After studying the naked human form in all of its many conditions for years, the professor had almost no reaction to the various models the department sent to him. All he cared was that they were able to sit still and take direction. He had a reputation of being demanding, but didn't pay attention to the rumors – he only wanted the very best for his students.

A knock on the door caught his attention.

"Come in," he said gruffly.

The door creaked open, and in walked a young woman. She introduced herself, "Hello, I'm Mina, the department sent me. You must be Professor Logan?"

He nodded, then pointed behind him, "You can disrobe in my office."

She wandered away, muttering something about buying a girl a drink first. Stepping out of the room, clad in a short white robe, he caught a glimpse of the form that would completely capture his very being for the semester. He moved to say something, to redo botched introduction, to make up for his social awkwardness when the students began filtering into the room.

"Where do you want me?" she asked innocently.

Desperately fighting back obscene images that poured into his brain, he pointed to the small couch in the middle of the room. He saw her in a thousand positions, most of them illegal and uncharacteristically blushing, grumbled, "Recline on the bench, put your hair over one shoulder."

As Mina settled into place, Keith stepped forward and announced, "This is Mina, everyone. You know the rules. Let's do one hour. I'll check your progress."

Turning around, he braced himself for a full look at a body of a goddess. Sleek and generously curved, she was a fascinating study of the female form. Her blonde hair tumbled invitingly over her shoulder, teasing skin he knew would be as soft as silk. He guessed she was in her early twenties, given the perky form of her perfectly molded breasts. With an artist's view, his trained gaze observed the nipples tipped in the lightest shade of rose, when, without warning his view dipped lower, over a sensually rounded hip down to a neatly trimmed, but almost bare…

He shook his head. She was a masterpiece.

She was Venus, reborn.

Keith couldn't remember the details, but suddenly there was a large pad of paper in his hands and he was frantically sketching her form, desperately attempting to capture the beauty in front of him. When the class ended, he felt reluctant to let her go, unsure if he would ever feel so inspired again. He had never felt so entirely possessed to create.

After class, still in a daze, he drove home, and, not bothering to stop, walked directly to his studio. A few years ago, after selling one of his first major pieces, flush with money, he purchased a large block of expensive and rare marble. The large material had been delivered and he had left it untouched all these years, never having anything worthy of the beauty in the stone. Tonight, in the dusk, he saw her form distinctly imprinted on the block in front of him.

Over the weekend, he worked like a man possessed, first molding a clay figure into the form he wanted the marble to become, then beginning to sketch out the details and design on the massive block.

On the piece of stone, he used his Italian crafted _la Mazza_ and assorted _gli Scalpelli_ to expertly carve and reveal layer after layer until after most of the semester had passed, and he was satisfied with the final result. To the model who inspired the creation, he said nothing. And yet, he would feel her eyes upon him as he sketched. Uncharacteristically, he used her for all levels of his classes. They barely spoke as the weeks passed, and he wondered when he would tell her about the piece.

"Who is she?" A voice asked.

A shirtless Keith spun around, and sighting his neighbor, Jack, relaxed marginally. Jack was a political science professor, pundit, and general spokesperson for any number of political topics. The two were friendly, sharing a beer and barbequing now and then. With his good looks and charming attitude, Jack was quickly moving towards a full time position at one of the major networks.

"Oh…" Keith's voice trailed off, and he was unsure how to answer the question. She was everything. She was a stranger. And soon, she wouldn't be in his life.

"I don't know much about art, man, but this is really something."

Keith took a step back and looked over the completed form. Sticking his hands in his back pockets, he answered, "Thanks."

"What are you going to call her?"

"Venus Felix."

"Hmm… Well good luck with that."

_AN: Debated having a super angst ending, where Mina dies, and the sculpture is the only thing that remains, but just not in a sad place right now. Also, I obviously can't figure out a good ending, so look for part II at a later date._

_Finally, this author may or may not have been sketched for her own sculpture by a D-List celebrity!!!!! _


	8. Firsts

_AN: More Professor!verse._

**Firsts.**

It was no secret Professor Zane's Advanced Biochemistry course was the class that made or broke aspiring young med students' careers. Throughout the department, his tough reputation had grown exponentially over the semesters. Furthermore, no matter the pressure from above, he kept his extraordinarily high standards – often failing more wannabe doctors than he passed. However, due to his brilliance in the field, the university was forced to continue to employ him and pay him larger salaries by the year. And yet…perhaps because of the challenging stigma surrounding the class, there was always a waiting list.

On the eve of the Fall semester, the handsome doctor prepared as usual, reviewing notes and updating slides, wondering what, if anything, would set this course apart from the others.

On the first day of the school year, in his Monday – Wednesday – Friday section, a petite girl arrived early, carefully selecting her seat, first row, in the exact center. From his podium, Zane carefully sipped his Grande Americano, barely bothered by her presence. He had seen these types before – high school valedictorians, given everything from an early age, and more often than not, failing out after the first exam.

And yet…

He noted her conservative clothing selection. Unlike many of the other young women in the lecture hall, this one wore a knee length skirt and a somewhat retro inspired twin set. The electric blue highlights that permeated her black hair made him take pause...perhaps there was more to her than he originally believed.

In the first week, she began to set herself apart by asking intelligent and provoking questions. He recognized she was not trying to get his attention, but that she was genuinely fascinated with the subject.

On the first test, she set the curve for grading…causing many of her classmates to receive lower grades than expected.

The first time and only time she was absent, he worried. In a section of over two hundred students, he looked forward to seeing her every other day, and missed seeing her over the weekend. Would she return? Had something happened to her?

On the Monday following her missed class, she was there again. After class, he asked casually, "Where were you?"

It was the first time they had spoken outside the context of professor and student.

Shyly, she looked down, then back at him and answered politely, "My father arrived. He made a donation at the museum. I was required to be there."

With her response, she ducked out of the lecture hall, pulling the Burberry trench closely around her. Back in his cramped office, listening to the drizzle patter on his window, he looked up events from the previous week in the campus newspaper. She hadn't been lying. There, in black and white, was a picture of the world famous photographer, Peter Michaels and daughter, Amy. She looked smaller in a public context, and he found himself believing he should have been there to protect her…escort her…something.

On the last day of the semester, instead of looking forward to the winter break ahead, he was surprisingly melancholy, but couldn't place or admit to the reason.

As he turned his grades over to the department, Amy Michaels received the first A+ he had ever given.


	9. Assassin

**Assassin**

_"I work in the dead of night  
When the roads are quiet, no one is around  
To track my moves, racing the yellow lights  
To find the gate is open, she's waiting in the room  
I just step on through._

_I was a killer, was the best they'd ever seen  
I'd steal your heart before you ever heard a thing  
I'm an assassin and I had a job to do  
Little did I know that girl was an assassin too."_

_**- Assassin, John Mayer**_

He idly wondered when the thrill of being a killer for hire had left him. When taking human lives had passed into the mundane… Five years of working with an elite team of mercenaries, he had travelled the world over, but, save for a few memorable one night stands, he had no souvenirs, no permanent existence on the planet.

The target for this assignment was a gorgeous blonde – all bedroom eyes and killer curves. Agent K didn't hesitate or question why her death was required, that wasn't his role. As usual, he started by scouting her life, putting together the details for a successful murder. Within a short time, he figured the best location for the event would be her penthouse, located in a pricey area of Manhattan. Sturdy, but not impenetrable. Like always, as he watched, he noted the activities of a person's last days on earth. Sometimes, he wished he could tell his targets – to inform them that Death was looking over their shoulder, ready to move in, but that would go against the code…

She was kind to strangers.

She liked bubble gum ice cream.

She drank classic margaritas on the rocks. No salt.

She stuck her tongue out when she applied mascara, which was at least three times a day.

She read The Economist.

More often than not, she wore a red satin ribbon in her hair.

He reminded himself she was a job and nothing more, wondering why, for the first time in years, his conscience had made a roaring return.

Using a brown wig to cover his distinctive silver locks, he posed as a delivery man and broke into her apartment, knowing she would return in a short amount of time from the bodega down the street. He had no sooner made his way in when he found himself face to face with a familiar sight – a Smith & Wesson, identical to the one he favored, the one that was just out of his reach.

"Turn around slowly."

Having listened in on most of her conversations during the week, he instantly recognized the voice.

The target.

With cold steel on his forehead, he acquiesced and slowly he put down his weapon.


	10. If I Fell in Love

**_AN: This is a follow up to the New Year's entry earlier in the year._**

_If I fell in love with you,  
could you promise to be true?  
And help me understand..._

_**- If I Fell, The Beatles **(Across the Universe version ain't bad either)_

"Why do you not celebrate inside with the others?"

She looked up, distracted, and neatly dodging his question answered, "You joined us? My lord flatters the Moon Kingdom with his presence."

Her words, no matter how courtly or flirtatious, did not match the emotion behind them. Why? From what he had seen so far, she had every reason to be joyous – surrounded by friends, handsome courtiers, and the elite of the Lunarian kingdom, dressed in expensive fabrics, the most beautiful princess at the Ball… And yet, from his vantage point he had seen the smile not reach her eyes, the mechanical and spiritless approach to her dance steps.

And how would he know if this wasn't her true personality, his subconscious chided. He had only shared her company on a scant number of occasions. How would he know the first thing about someone from such a foreign background to his own? Worst of all, why did he believe that he could change her mood?

"I was curious," he stated vaguely.

"And? Is our kingdom everything you thought it would be?"

Unsure if her subtext was deliberate or not, he answered, "It is…interesting."

"Did your Prince join you?"

"Yes." He failed to mention the other Shitennou, masked to conceal their identities, had also journeyed to the Moon.

"Ah, Serenity will be most pleased."

For once not wanting to speak of his regent, he commented, "The hour glass has almost run out."

In the light of the full moon, a ghost of a smile graced her delicate features and he wondered what could have possibly transpired since he had seen her last. She turned away from him, and said, "Perhaps I should go back inside."

He scowled at her veiled rejection, but offered his arm formally, "Can I escort you?"

She leaned upon him, delicate fingertips grazing the crisp lines of his uniform and sighed deeply. They walked in silence, and realizing the moment had almost had almost passed, he asked, "Can I ask what troubles you?"

"No, you cannot."

Rather than accept the wishes of a princess, he, unused to not hearing others acquiesce to his demands, tensed sharply.

"Can I ask what troubles _you_, my lord?"

He heard the humor in her voice as she turned his question around. He stopped suddenly, and listened to the revelers inside.

"10…9…."

"Why do they count backwards?"

Venus turned to look up at him, "The sands will be gone shortly. A new beginning is almost upon us."

"…6…5…"

He held her gaze. The look on her face was challenging and expectant. He stared at her a moment longer.

"…1."

They met passionately in the middle, open mouthed, his lips crushing hers, and her hands twisting through his long silver locks._  
_


	11. Lessons

Who? N/L (Professor!verse)

**Lessons.**

"No, you're doing it wrong." Lita said, forcefully tucking a stray curl behind her chef's cap – the only outward sign she was very close to losing her patience.

Taking a calm breath, Lita O'Malley rallied the remainder of her tolerance. This was the seventh week of a semester long intensive cooking class. While not Le Cordon Bleu, the course sought to bring hobbyists and others not employed in the culinary arts together to enhance their skills.

Although pastries were her specialty, Chef Lita O'Malley had a reputation throughout the region of whipping any troubled kitchen into shape. It was those skills that had provided the opportunity for her current job. When a local and highly successful restaurateur had approached her for teaching position, she jumped at the chance to stay in one city for a few months – to settle into an apartment, to start a garden, to make permanent friends who did not work every weekend night, to start a relationship...

Using the expansive kitchens of a nearby luxury hotel, Lita had, for the most part, truly enjoyed teaching. Starting with the basics, they worked through different recipes and techniques creating sauces, souffles, and other delicious dishes. Overall, the twenty students were a delight. They were of varying ages and backgrounds, but mainly professionals related to some study or function of the nearby university.

All except one.

His name was Nathan. He was, apparently, a tenured professor of Astronomy. However, Lita had a difficult time believing someone with so much education could barely toast bread, let alone make a decent Béarnaise sauce. And yet, she could see he was trying.

"I should just quit, shouldn't I?"

Lita hesitated. She hated admitting that it was impossible to teach someone, but Nathan was struggling to cook an omelet. Still, she found herself charmed by him. His long hair and grubby wardrobe told her there was most likely no romantic partner in his life...but would she be crossing a line by dating one of her students? Was the attraction one sided? After years in kitchens and trendy restaurants, Lita had fallen for one too many men who had turned out to be gay or already taken. Her entire ability to gauge interest had been completely thrown off.

"Look for me after class – we'll get this right, I promise." Lita turned her attention back to the other class members.

Approximately one hour later, Nathan shuffled in her direction.

Lita finished washing out a bowl and asked simply, "Can I ask why you joined this course?"

"I...you won't believe me."

Placing a damp towel on her shoulder, she said, "Try me."

"First, I need you to give me an honest answer. Am I going to make it as a chef?"

She hesitated, but unfailing honesty was one of her trademark personality traits. As much as it pained her to say so, she replied, "Not really. I think you should stick to the world of Astronomy."

He looked crestfallen for a moment and jammed his hands in his back pockets. Then, with his familiar smile returning, he asked, "Want to know a secret?"

Looking up, she noticed his dark brown eyes twinkling and responded, "Sure?"

"I never signed up for this course. I was here for a conference and saw you in the lobby...and more or less followed you in."

Lita thought back to the first day, in the chaos and craziness of introductions, she had left her papers in the car and had never completed a formal check for the participants. While she knew she should be angry, or even a bit worried, part of her was touched by this soft spoken professor. Over the weeks, he'd had culinary failure after cooking disaster and yet, he continued to come to the class.

"I know I can't make you dinner, but can I take you out?"

She considered, before smiling and answering, "That would be...nice."

_AN: Enjoy the three day weekend for me!_


	12. Agent J Part I

_Who? R/J (Assassin adjacent w/rando manga character cameo)_

_AU. M for a few naughty words._

**Agent J - Part I  
**  
_I'm gonna break the cycle  
I'm gonna shake up the system  
I'm gonna destroy my ego  
I'm gonna close my body now_

_I think I'll find another way  
There's so much more to know  
I guess I'll die another day  
It's not my time to go…_

**_- Madonna, Die Another Day_**

Having bodyguards since she was very young, they blended into the background of Rei Hino's sheltered life. Then, during her senior year of high school, a younger man was assigned to her contingent. As her politician father rarely communicated with her, she was unsure the cause for the personnel change and probably would never know the reason. Given the revolving amount of people in her life, Rei remained distantly polite.

"Call me Agent J," he told her, a toothpick tucked casually in the corner of his firm mouth.

She glanced up from her iPhone, tucked a strand of silky black hair behind her ear, and put on her headphones, effectively blocking out the rest of the world.

# # #

Weeks went by, but she felt his stare, always following her. Were his actions part of his job? Or was there genuine interest behind the gaze? While a sexually experienced Rei had already been through an 'older man' phase, something caused her to hesitate when considering the blonde haired Agent J. He was deceptively relaxed, appearing casual, but she knew better.

# # #

One uninspiring day in late fall when the last of the leaves had fallen from the trees, they started a conversation. He saw a number of college applications spread out across the back of the town car and commented, "Ah – Brown, my alma mater."

Having always pictured him entering the armed services straight out of some backwater Louisiana parish, she was unsure how he attended the elite school and was more intrigued than ever.

Removing her ubiquitous ear buds, she asked, "Really, what did you study?"

# # #

It was nearing her graduation in the spring. She had been accepted to NYU and was looking forward to a summer abroad. With AP exams behind her, Rei felt completely free. Linking her elegant arm through Agent J's muscular one, she waltzed them out of the guarded penthouse and onto the bustling street. Unsure how or where her intended seduction would play out, she planned to take Agent J to the nearest hotel bar and get things started with a healthy dose of liquid courage.

Pulling a pack of Lucky Strikes from her bag, she offered one to her protector, who shook his head and said, "You shouldn't smoke those. They are bad for you."

"What are you going to do about?" Lowering her voice and her lashes, she asked, "Punish me?"

The air around them crackled with unspent tension. Whatever response he might have given was interrupted when tires screeched and a vehicle stopped short in front of them. In slow motion, Rei watched Agent J step in front of her, throw his arm out and bodily place himself between her and whoever was in the van, but to no avail – something was placed roughly over her head and she was knocked out and thrown into the back of the nondescript auto.

# # #

Hearing raised voices arguing, Rei groggily came awake.

"I told you – it's too early. Our orders were that we would wait until the Senator's campaign for reelection was announced."

Although her head was pounding, she recognized Agent J's voice…oddly distorted over a loudspeaker.

"Our orders changed, Jack."

His name – Rei had never known it. In all the months they had known each other, he would never tell her. And here, bound and gagged, she heard another level of intimacy in the foreign woman speaking to Agent J…Jack. With some difficulty, Rei swallowed bitterly.

"Iron Mouse." Even though the connection wasn't clear, Rei heard the dangerous warning tone in his voice.

Sitting close by, the accented voice answered playfully, "Yes, love?"

"This was always intended as a kidnapping. Why wasn't I included?"

The woman giggled and answered, "Silly - you would spoil the fun!"

"What are you planning?" There was no amusement in Jack's response.

"Oh, don't be like that," the woman pouted. "You must have noticed, Jack, she's incredibly beautiful – those are the _most_ fun to play with!"

Rei had a distinct feeling this 'fun' was not something to look forward to. Uncomfortably bound, she moved her body and attracted the attention of the woman near her. Informing Jack of the development, the woman narrated, "Looks like our precious Hino has decided to become conscious again."

"You won't touch her."

"Tsk, tsk, I don't like your tone, Jack. Why, are you going to come over here and stop me?"

"I will if you tell me your location."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Too bad." The woman's tone changed abruptly and Rei tensed, preparing herself for the worst.

The Senator's daughter heard the unknown woman move towards her. Surprisingly, her captor removed the cover on her face. Rei blinked rapidly in the light, and, after adjusting to the change, was surprised at the person in front of her. Tiny, delicate, with hair tied up in pale blonde pigtails, this 'Iron Mouse' looked completely harmless. Clothed in nothing more than some sort of ridiculous combination of lingerie and bondage gear, Rei wondered where Jack had run across her and what their relationship was.

"What, honey? Who were you expecting?"

Jack interrupted, "What's going on? Rei – can you hear me – don't listen to anything she says! I'm going to find—"

Iron Mouse walked over and picked up the handset, slamming it down and cutting off Jack's voice. Rei's heart surged at his declaration. The short woman, seeing the naked optimism on Rei's face, asked, "What? You think he's going to come over like some cunting knight in fucking armor?"

Rei, still gagged, shook her head.

"I have news for you, girlie – that man has been playing you and your father from the beginning. This was all a set up. You are nothing more than a pawn in a much larger game."

Rei thought about their conversations, the small gestures, the intimate looks and knew – on some innate level – there had to be more to the mysterious Agent J. All she had to do was stay alive until he could find her. Rei's eyes took in her surroundings, searching for clues to her location. It was a loft, and an expensive one – they had to still be in the city. Looking down, Rei realized she was sitting on a large and industrial plastic sheet. Her already parched throat constricted.

Seeing her captive's reaction, Iron Mouse giggled and explained, "Sometimes I make a mess."

_AN: So. Much. Potential… So do not have time right now. I am working on the second part, apologies for the awkward break._

_Also, is it weird if I picture Iron Mouse as Lady Gaga from the Paparazzi video?_


	13. Jadeite Alone

Jadeite (alone)

**_"When he rides in to vanquish the untouched tribes, don't you think they fall down with desire before those sky colored eyes?"_**

The directive from his father had been a simple request. Raiders on the border of their lands to the South needed to be eliminated. He, the first and only son of the King of the Far East, had just returned from the capital, having earned his shield weeks before. At eighteen, he was a knight of the realm, heir to countless riches, member of Prince Endymion's inner council, but still untested in battle.

Arriving at the edge of his domain some days later, he saw not raiders or thieves, but instead simple nomads, reaping what they could from the land. Had his father known? Was this part of the test?

His horse, a battle worthy stallion, stamped a hoof impatiently. He nodded to his men, pulled down the visor to his helmet, drew his sword high and went forward into the night.


	14. Agent J Part II

_AN: Sorry so late with this..._

**Agent J - Part II**

Iron Mouse's malevolent look was broken when her phone trilled with the tunes of some obnoxious pop song. As the petite woman walked to pick up the ringing device, she asked snidely, "And even if he wasn't part of this whole set up – just how much you think he will pay to find out where you are? 1 million? 2 million? Do you honestly think he would trade his life for yours?"

Rei had no way of responding. She also had no way of knowing whether Jack had access to those types of funds.

Picking up the handset, the woman abruptly switched tones again and said playfully, "Jack, pet, you're being very forward."

While Iron Mouse wandered to some other part of the loft, Rei forced herself to remain calm and kept her breathing even. The woman was clearly a psychopath and panicking wasn't going to do anything to help the situation. If she was going to find a way out of this mess and see what Jack's true intentions were, she would first have to survive. With her amethyst eyes darting around the room, Rei sought any means of escape. She was bound tightly, but still had some motion in her legs. It wasn't much, but the daily morning sessions with yoga gave her hope. If there was only a distraction… Some deity must have been listening to her silent prayer because at that moment, the tiny terrorist walked through and slammed a door behind her, shouting random numbers and cities.

Unsure how much time she would have, Rei instantly began struggling – throwing her weight against the expertly tied bindings. Managing to rock herself onto the floor, the young woman remembered the lighter in her pockets and vainly worked the device out. Rei had the first fluttering of hope when she heard a squeaky voice behind her, "Not so fast, girlie. Where do you think you were going?"

With the gag still in her mouth, Rei did her best to affect a bored expression.

Twirling one of her short blonde pigtails, Iron Mouse said smugly, "Oh, don't ruin my fun. Anyway, I just finished talking to your precious Jack and guess what?"

Rei shrugged, but the woman shouted angrily, "GUESS!"

When Rei failed to respond, Iron Mouse slapped her hard across the face and said giddily, "He's agreed to get back into bed with me!"

Rei gathered her remaining strength and looked defiantly at the woman. Surely, Jack was doing this to help her, wasn't he? He couldn't actually be working with this psycho?

"What? You still think you're going to escape?" With a sharply booted foot, the woman took aim and kicked Rei squarely in the stomach, forcing the wind abruptly out of her.

While Rei gasped for oxygen through the gag, Iron Mouse pranced over to the nearby sink and returned with a dangerous looking syringe. Laughing merrily, she said, "Now, you need to go night night until Jack can join us – I'm sick of looking at you."

Despite her injuries, Rei struggled as much as possible, but was unable to avoid the needle and plunged into darkness.

# # #

Some unknown amount of time later, Rei groggily came awake. She was desperate to swallow and her mouth felt filled with cotton. Effectively blinding her again, her crazed captor had replaced the blindfold, and hadn't bothered to move her from the ground. The Senator's daughter remained still. Mentally reviewing her various body parts, she found that while every muscle screamed in agony, she was still alive. Trying to center herself, Rei listened intently to see if anyone else was in the loft.

"Why can't it be like old times?" Iron Mouse pouted. "I miss you...I miss us."

"It's a different world now." She recognized Jack's voice instantly – it was harder, edgier than the tones he usually used with her, but it was him…there was still a chance she could survive this mess.

"Is it? Or have you changed? Remember – Istanbul – you promised me you would never go soft!"

"I haven't."

"Prove it."

"How?"

Rei heard the woman's heels click closer to her. Feeling like an animal being inspected for slaughter, Rei attempted to control the shudder that went through her system. Iron Mouse finally said, "The first cut is yours."

"You know I was never into that."

"For me?" Rei heard the heels click back and imagined Iron Mouse moving in close to rub herself against Jack in some strange attempt to persuade him.

Rather than answer, Jack changed the topic, "So, you're going to play her father?"

"Why not? Send him a pinkie? Maybe an ear? Some of that beautiful hair? Get his hopes up."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you are one sick fuck."

Iron Mouse giggled and answered, "Thanks for the compliment."

In her still fuzzy head, Rei finally recognized what he was doing – stalling for time or information. She knew the tone – she'd heard him use it before, and it definitely meant he was waiting for something – but what? She heard his heavier footsteps move away from Iron Mouse.

"Istanbul, those were the good times weren't they?"

"Yeah, killing Karim was like taking candy from a baby."

Jake inhaled deeply, then said with an unmistakable smile in his voice, "Finally, a confession. Move in, team."

Rei stilled and listened as a door in the distance busted open and many booted footsteps moved through the door.

"Freeze!"

"Bastard! You're a double agent?"

"Yes. Furthermore, just so we're clear, she's worth a million of you and I will personally ensure you are locked up for a very long time."

"I'll kill you!"

Rei could only sit and listen as there was a violent scuffle near her space on the ground. She heard skin meet skin, ripping fabric, grunts and shoving and finally the blindfold came off. Rei was safe behind an agent, and Iron Mouse was spitting blood in the faces of the Feds who had her in cuffs. A string of expletives followed the tiny woman as she was led down a darkened hallway.

Jack moved towards Rei, and gently removed the final bindings that held her. Tucking a large blanket around her shoulders, he held her close, and motioned for one of the team members to bring over a cup. Sipping water, forcing her throat to begin functioning normally, Rei waited for an explanation. She watched as Jack ignored the stares from the fellow agents - he didn't seem intent on letting her go any time soon. Finally, he said, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" She croaked, "You saved my life."

"For everything. For almost losing you. I let myself..." His voice cracked, "If you'll let me, I'd like to tell you what I've been wanting to explain since I started being your bodyguard."

Rei considered. Finally, she asked, "Did you really go to Brown?"


	15. Poli Sci Honors

_AN: University!verse_

R/J

**Poli Sci 101 (Honors)**

He was informed the Senator's daughter would be in his course before the semester began. She wouldn't be his first 'celebrity' student; he'd lectured to important personalities during his career. To him, they were just people and he didn't treat them - or grade them - any differently than his other students.

Of the few things he retained from his childhood, the belief that everyone was created equally was one of the most fundamental. The second of three sons, Jack Spellman had diligently worked his way up from blue color beginnings in a nothing town. It took three jobs to put himself through the Ivy League college he'd been accepted to. During his undergrad experience, he'd befriended various individuals from different backgrounds. However, the strongest connections had been those with young men and women of similar upbringings to his own. While he enjoyed the benefits that went with his wealthier friends, there was always an unspoken disconnect he was unable to find an explanation for.

He'd been attracted to government from an early age. There was nothing more exciting than learning about the roots of democracy and the history of his great nation. He knew there were problems with the system, but ultimately, for better or worse, he loved his country. After graduation (a dual MBA and history major, along with a Spanish minor), he went to work for a national campaign. Once a successful November had rolled past, Jack decided he wanted to inspire other young minds – to try and put back a spark into the next generation of leaders. Given his experience and undergraduate pedigree, acceptance into academia had been easy.

A few years into his teaching career, he thrived in the pace of a college town. An overachiever, Jack taught mostly Tuesday / Thursday sections, allowing him to contribute to various political forums on his off days. While he had started with articles, there was no denying his on camera charisma. In the genetic lottery, Jack had been blessed with undeniably attractive masculine features. Although a television career hadn't been in his original plan, he was starting to get used to the idea. Late at night, sometimes he wondered, what would it take to launch him into the national spotlight?

* * *

On the first day of the fall semester, Jack walked into his classroom, immaculate in tailored black trousers and a royal blue button down shirt rolled up to reveal strong and capable forearms. As the Dean of the department had a bit of a soft spot for him, Professor Spellman was awarded an honors lecture course for undergraduates. The political science credit was required for all underclassmen, but, as always he hoped to make the class one they would remember.

Due to the honors distinction, the class size was limited to 20, and Jack looked forward to their time together. Although the secret service posted at his door tipped him off to her presence, he was inexplicably and instantly aware of Rei Hino's presence in the room. Firmly controlling his expression, he wondered what type of student she would be. Unlike most political offspring, he knew she purposely chose to remain out of the spotlight. Leaning on a desk, in a friendly tone, he began telling the students about the political systems that governed their nation. As the weeks went by, he had a chance to study her. The relation to her father was undeniable – the way she carried herself, she was a commanding presence at the age of 19. And yet, there was more to her. She had a warmth and depth her dad did not possess. Where he came off as a bit fake, her generosity of spirit was undeniable. She was smart, but didn't always apply herself.

* * *

"Could you please explain this grade to me?" She asked, politely, but firmly, hands on her hips, and he suddenly had an interesting mental image of her commanding armies, bathed in flames...

Looking around, he saw her usual muscle was not present. Perhaps they were waiting in the hallway, either way, it was the first time in the semester they had been absolutely alone. When marking papers over the weekend, he knew the C- was sure to attract the young woman's attention. She deserved the grade, but he would be lying if he didn't want to spend some time in her company. There was an unexplainable attraction.

A relationship with the senator's daughter would open doors and fast track his career in a way almost nothing else could...

From what he could glean in the classroom, she was well traveled, but still a bit naïve. It wouldn't be the first time he got involved with a younger woman… And yet, his interest in her went deeper than some semester fling.

Looking up, he answered, "You did not adequately complete the assignment."

"There are only five grades the entire semester – it will be impossible for me to get an A!"

"You should've thought of that before you turned in the paper," Jack said and turned back to his laptop, marking talking points for his latest press opportunity the following day.

"Are you sure this isn't about something else?"

"What are you implying?"

"Oh, I can see the headlines now 'Senator's Daughter Fails Political Science.' Those would get some people interested… Grab the attention of a national show?"

"The thought never occurred to me."

"Really? And now, how's this conversation going to go – let me see if I might be right, 'Yes, Professor Spellman, in return for the grade I deserve, I'd be happy to introduce you to my father.'"

"Get out of my office."

"What did you just say?"

"Leave. Whenever you decide to grow up, we can have an adult conversation."

Speechless, in a flurry of jet black hair and flashing purple eyes she left his office and slammed the door.

Jack leaned back in his worn chair and said to the empty room, "Way to go, Spellman. You just wrote off any future hope of getting help from the senior Senator. What other bridges do you want to blow up today?"

* * *

She was in class the next day, but refused to make eye contact with him. She participated - politely - in class. They continued a similar pattern until the first test of the semester. Over the weekend, Jack graded the results and was surprised to see the obvious attention to detail that went into her exam.

As he handed out the results on the following Tuesday, he looked directly at her as he said, "I was very impressed by all of your efforts. Great job."

He hid the smirk when she followed him out to his office after class and asked, "What the hell is this?"

"Language, Miss Hino. I believe I said I wanted to have an adult conversation with you."

"Fine. What is this supposed to mean?" She thrust the A marked paper into his face.

"This is not satisfactory?"

"How am I supposed to know why you gave this to me?"

"You earned it."

"I earned it?"

"Yes. As with your previous grade, I mark papers accordingly."

"Hmm." She walked off, her short plaid skirt swishing effectively.

* * *

It was late. He had stayed well after office hours, hammering together an essay for Slate. Most of the others in the department had left already. The nights had grown longer, and he wasn't looking forward to the cold walk to his car. The campus had launched itself into Finals mode, and he was a bit melancholy that his undergraduate Political Science section would be over. After her 'A,' Rei had applied herself to the course, often leading discussions and challenging others opinions. Jack had watched her come alive. Ultimately, this was why he loved teaching - the spark of knowledge and interest inspired and motivated his own actions.

There was a knock at his door. He looked up and saw the Senator's daughter standing in the doorway.

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to say thank you."

"For what?"

"For treating me like everyone else."

"My pleasure. I think your Dad would be proud."

She looked away and said, "I can introduce you, if you'd like."

He considered her offer, and then answered, "No, if I'm supposed to meet him, I will. Although you can give him a message."

"What's that?"

"Tell him he needs to really get campaign finance reform - it's out of control."

"I will. Anything else?"

Before he had time to think his actions through, Jack licked his lips and stood up, gathering his things, and moving closer to her, said, "You can tell him..."

"Yes?"

Jack leaned down and whispered in the perfect pink shell of her ear, "Tell him I think his daughter is one of the most beautiful and incredible women I've ever met."

_AN: And yes, there will be Part II on all of the Uni stories. And just a moment for me to pimp some of my other SM fics - if you like what I do here, check out some of my other stories.  
_


	16. The Cook

AN: Next up in Assassins... N/L!

**The Cook **

_I want a girl with a mind like a diamond  
I want a girl who knows what's best  
I want a girl with shoes that cut  
And eyes that burn like cigarettes_

_I want a girl with the right allocations  
Who's fast and thorough  
And sharp as a tack  
She's playing with her jewelry  
She's putting up her hair  
She's touring the facility  
And picking up slack_

_I want a girl with a short skirt and a lonnnng jacket..._

_I want a girl who gets up early  
I want a girl who stays up late  
I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity  
Who uses a machete to cut through red tape  
With fingernails that shine like justice  
And a voice that is dark like tinted glass_

_She is fast and thorough  
And sharp as a tack  
She's touring the facility  
And picking up slack."_

_**-Short Skirt, Long Jacket, Cake**_

He stakes out the small coffee shop for three days before physically approaching the location. It is a tiny place, with barely enough room to seat a dozen people, tucked into a relatively busy street in trendy Knightsbridge. There are gorgeous heritage pink roses bursting from planters on the front door, and a merry bell sounds across the gray streets noting customers' arrival. From sunrise to sunset there is a steady stream of pedestrian traffic. Gauging his mission, he decides to slip in near closing.

Sneaking in as the last patron leaves the property, he recognizes the proprietor from her files, but the black and white and rather grainy images haven't done her any justice. She's stunning. Long mahogany hair is tucked up into a high ponytail, but curly tendrils have snuck out during the long day. She wears a tight fitting Kelly green shirt which reveals generous curves and matches her eyes perfectly. Her pleasing hourglass figure is complimented by the apron she wears snugly around her waist.

"You going to order something, or are you going to look at my tits all day?"

Nick, unusually flustered, straightens his black silk tie and walks to the counter where she is wiping down glasses. Throwing the pictures of her in a former life down casually, he says, "I know who you are."

She gives him an expression of complete boredom and then answers, "Then you should know you're wasting your time."

"Look, I wouldn't have come here unless I thought I would convince you otherwise."

"In case you haven't realized it, in your THREE DAYS of watching me and my store, I'm not interested. If I had been, I would've walked out to your precious and pretentious Aston Martin and told you I was."

Nicholas Worthington's dark eyebrows furrow.

"What? You thought you had some sort of super secret stakeout going on? Seriously…" She walks over and locks the door, flipping the Open sign to Closed as streetlights come on in the distance. Nodding at him, she commands, "Do me a favor and flip those chairs, would you?"

A speechless Nicholas has nothing better to do than follow her directions. He carefully removes the bespoke suit jacket and rolls up his oxford clad sleeves. As he makes progress, he says plainly, "It's the PM."

"Not mine."

"What?"

"'What?' he asks. I am not a citizen of this country. I'm sure your intelligence report says something to that effect."

"It does."

"So?"

"So what?"

"Why are you still here?"

"You mean to tell me you have no interest in protecting the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom."

"If he has people like you on staff, he's going to need a lot more help than I can provide. I'm only one woman."

Nicholas cannot help it as he rolls his eyes. Removing a freshly pressed and pristine white handkerchief, he wipes his brow and responds, "You're the best. There's a position open in the household for you. We anticipate an imminent assassination attempt on the PM and want to up our security."

Leda considers his statement by pulling out a tub of lip balm the same shade as the roses outdoors and smoothing it over her plump lips. Finally she asks, "Will you be assigned to the case?"

"You'll consider it?"

"You didn't answer my question."

Nicholas wants to grumble. He's been sent on this 'mission' after a recent catastrophe in Morocco. He hates babysitting, but knows there is still some leverage he has to regain at the office. However, seeing Leda Theodorakis's sweet curves on a daily basis wouldn't be such a bad thing. He answers, "Fine, yes, that can be arranged."

"Bit of a egotist, aren't you? Why do you assume it's you I want around?"

"Oh…well, I don't have to be…"

"It's fine, sailor."

Nicholas, originally recruited into MI6 from the Royal Navy, blinks and backs away, wanting to put some space between himself and this mysterious mind reader. He says, "Your mission details will be sent to you shortly. Can you find someone to cover the shop?"

"I was planning on taking some vacation time anyway."

_AN: No ill will against Mr. Cameron or his family!_


	17. Tango Scene

_AN: N/L (more Assassin!verse, non-linear)_

**Tango Scene**

Nicholas Worthington walked into the kitchens at the exact wrong time.

In the busy chaos, Leda Theodorakis had just dusted her floured hands off and was removing the full covering of her apron. The MI6 Agent licked suddenly dry lips as the white garment was placed aside - revealing a tight emerald green dress with high Mandarin collar and dangerous slits on both sides.

He had come in to see if she would join the visiting Danish royalty in the ballroom. He had meant to make polite conversation, to introduce her to various dignitaries as the talented sous chef responsible for the delicious dinner they had just finished.

Instead…

Wordlessly, he grabbed her hand and all but dragged her into the large room. The strains of a tango met them as they walked into the ornately decorated space. He lifted a dark eyebrow in her direction, and her stubborn chin went up in agreement.

While many of the couples cleared the space, those with skills for the intricate dance sought the challenge the musicians provided. Using a large hand on the small of her perfectly curved back, Nicholas brought her close to his sleekly tuxedoed body, noting with pleasure the gentle swell of her immaculate breasts pressing up against his chest.

Both tall and graceful, they moved smoothly in perfect unison across the floor, drawing admiring stares from many who looked on. Nicholas was suddenly and eternally grateful for the year he had spent stationed in Buenos Aires. He confidently led her through complicated steps and she yielded to his lead. And yet, it was with complete satisfaction he noted her eyes challenged him to push further, harder, closer...

Too soon the strains of the song came to an end. He dipped her low...pressing her body firmly against his.

Only then did he feel the slim, but lethal blades strapped to her upper thighs.

Closing his eyes, he remembered why she was in his arms.

This was an assignment.


	18. Habibi

AN: M/K (SilMil - M implied)

Prompt: **Habibi** _(term of affection / endearment in Arabic)_

She is a gift from the Silver Alliance. A present for the mighty King of the Middle East. In quieter moments, he would admit to being amused at what his position brings. He's seen it all - fine stallions, casks of wine, reams of brilliant fabrics, handcrafted silver _khanjar_ - she is not the first young woman offered. Although he doubts her presence will have little effect on the upcoming peace talks with between the two kingdoms, he allows the transaction to take place and welcomes her into his home.

She steps boldly into the tent, flashing sheer fabrics with jewels winking in her long blonde hair. With a small nod to the musicians, they strike up a riveting beat, which grows faster and faster - a melody he hasn't heard before. Never taking her blue eyes from his silver ones, she whirls around, carefully losing layers of her costume until she is left with little covering her perfect body. A sparkling chain moves in rhythm around her small waist.

Later, in his private quarters, as she moans in ecstasy underneath the hard planes of his body, he murmurs something he's never said aloud to another person, "_Habibi_."


	19. Further Studies

Who? A/Z (Professor!verse, part next)

_AN: Continuing Prof!verse. Also continuing to try not and fail in my lack of A/Z fiction._

**Further Studies**_  
_

Rubbing an absent-minded hand through his blonde hair, Professor Zane scanned through the applicants for his upcoming research project. There were over a hundred underclassmen candidates for five spots. The large University turned up its usual assortment of excellent potential - former valedictorians, future top researchers, and, as his hand paused...

Amy Michaels.

It had been three years since she had been in his Biology course, but he hadn't forgotten her, nor had he awarded any other student with an A+. Since then, he had glimpsed her around the department - stepping out of classrooms, speaking quietly with classmates, tucked into his favorite corner of the Sciences library usually surrounded by large stacks of journals and textbooks. He had heard the whispers from his colleagues. The girl was a genius – she had a definite lock on a Rhodes scholarship and there were those who wanted to hook on to her rising star. Already, the dean of Sciences was paying special attention to her, hoping she would remember her university when she was a rich and powerful alumnae.

Zane placed the large stack of files aside and read intently over her application. There was no doubt her grades fit. Furthermore, she had already been published and held promising potential in her intended field of genetics. Although he could justify having her on the study – there was no question she deserved a spot – Zane couldn't shake the feeling there was more to adding her to the team than just her mental abilities.

In August, at the start of the fall semester, Zane met with his undergraduate assistants, welcomed them and explained what their responsibilities would be. Their part in his research was small, but detailed and important. There was strict protocol to follow and while he recognized there was a lot of grunt work from their end, they were an integral part of the process. Leaving them to work out their schedules, he paused, realizing something indescribable locked into place with the promise of having Amy back in his life again.

Stopping in one day when he knew she would be there, Professor Zane silently entered the laboratory. Amy, her dark hair – still streaked with electric blue highlights – paused carefully to look into a high powered microscope. She neatly held a pencil between two perfect rows of teeth. Zane opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, he heard the voice of another young man from across the room ask, "So, what are your plans for the weekend?"

Amy, intent on her work, didn't seem to realize a question had been directed at her. Zane smiled to himself.

"Hello? Amy?"

"Yes, Greg?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Hmm…what's that?"

"Never mind." Her lab partner stood up and said, "I'm going to go to the canteen, do you want anything?"

"Oh, no, thank you."

An oblivious Gregory walked out the back exit to the lab, and Zane stepped forward. This was the first time they had been alone since the start of the research. Unlike her interaction with Greg, she was aware of his presence and turned on her lab stool to face him. Pulling up a seat next to her, he breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of her perfume, and asked, "How are you finding things so far?"

Amy quickly removed the pencil from her mouth, and replied, "Very interesting!"

"I'm glad to hear it."

Unsure what prompted him, Zane asked, "So, what _are_ you doing this weekend?"

The young woman blushed slightly and responded, "Oh…I'm not sure. Probably studying for Midterms."

Zane knew Midterms were over a month away and chuckled lightly. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to dinner, to do something social together, when Greg walked back in and said, "Forgot my wallet – oh hi Professor!"

While a loquacious Greg started talking Zane's ear off about his projections for the results of the project, the professor followed the young man out of the lab. The moment – whatever it was – had been lost, and he wondered at his temporary lapse in sanity.

_AN: Thanks to Naoko, who left plenty of extra characters to make things difficult for the Shitennou._


	20. Diwali

_Who? A/Z (Assassin-esque) _

_Wishing everyone a (belated) happy festival of lights! _

**Diwali**

Firecrackers exploded around the young woman, instantly reflecting blues and purples into her short dark hair. Enjoying the wild laughter and spirit of those around her, Ami sat back and relaxed, sipping her spicy chai. She had been in Mumbai for the better part of a year – finding its chaos, lax telecommunication laws, and general attitude towards security ideal for her ministrations.

After breaking a loveless engagement to her high school sweetheart, Greg, she had accepted the exotic post immediately – for once, not thoroughly thinking through her actions. With nothing more than her high end electronic equipment and a worn Louis Vuitton duffle, she landed in the heaving city of 13 million and assimilated quickly – finding a well located non-descript flat close to markets and one of the nicer hotels.

Gently touching the little clay _diva_ in front of her, she considered the tradition behind the celebration of lights. All around her, people literally rejoiced in the simple, but powerful triumph of good over evil. The tiny flame flickered merrily and Ami wondered if all large concepts could be broken down to such small gestures. To take a break from her complicated world of numbers, codes, speed, accuracy, and planning was necessary. She didn't mind not having anyone to share the holiday with and was well accustomed to a solitary lifestyle.

And yet… Tonight, after finishing a major 3 month objective, she had felt keyed up, too excited, and had escaped the confines of her apartment to join in the celebrating city.

"_Namaste_."

Broken from her reverie, the young woman looked up, surprised to see a Western man standing in front of her – his blonde hair identifying him in a sea of dark heads. Instantly wary, she wondered what his background was. He was too well groomed to be a backpacker, and while his stance was an easy one, she sensed some deeper danger in his presence.

A wild thought entered her conscience.

In the past couple of months, the assignment of her handler had changed. While Ami had no way of knowing whether she was dealing with a man or woman, over time, they had developed a sort of relationship. She looked forward to the missives he sent her, anxiously anticipating the intelligent quips and gleaning whatever background information she could about 'him.'

"Can I join you?" he asked in an accented voice.

"Certainly."

He slid onto the rough wooden bench next to her, not quite crowding her space, but sitting closer than was necessary. Knowing personal space was not highly valued in the country, she chided herself for her reaction.

"Been in town long?"

Ami's cover went deep, and she answered dutifully, "I work at the American embassy."

"Do you enjoy the job?"

Still unsure who she was speaking with, she decided to push the envelope and replied, "It's interesting, very self directed."

"How's your boss?"

"I rarely see him."

"What's his name? I also work in diplomatic circles, maybe I know him."

Ami chewed her bottom lip a moment before she said, "He has a funny nickname actually..."

The man next to her turned to face her. She detected an interesting sparkle in his green eyes and although it went against all protocol, could potentially cost her job, and was plainly a risky decision, she finished by revealing the handle of her contact, "...he goes by the name Zoicite."

_AN: For the record, I see Amy very much as a Lisbeth Salander in this context… _


	21. Dystopia

_AN: Been reading some dystopian fiction recently... Hence the angst. Bonus points if you can guess what I've been reading._

_"Just gonna stand there and watch me burn  
That's all right because I like the way it hurts  
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry  
That's all right because I love the way you lie  
I love the way you lie."_

- _**Love The Way You Lie**, Eminem (ft. Rhiana)_

The earth, once a bright blue ball of brilliant light, is now obscured by dust, rubble and other debris. The remains of a fearsome battle still echo across the universe – reaching into the far and dark corners, speaking of unconscionable and other unspeakable atrocities. The shining aura of the earth's satellite, the moon, has a shadow upon it. Bloodied and battered corpses lay haphazardly on stone and formerly stunning structures. In death, the bodies claim testament to the destruction which caused their brutal ends. Although the space exists without witness, a survivor might have seen those carcasses ripped apart by sword, others burned to a crisp. Still others showed signs of suffocation or drowning.

And if this same witness picked their way through the carnage, in the masses, they might have passed two figures who lay still, but continue to draw breath, hearts refusing to stop pushing blood through their chambers.

In the almost complete stillness, the man asks, How did we get here?

Mars said this began before we met. It was our fate.

Nephrite told us the same.

Could it have been avoided?

No.

Could it have been less painful?

No.

Her voice catches in the throat he partially crushed minutes ago. Did we deserve it?

Maybe.

An impossibly bright light shines in the distance blinding the pair and catching their attention. The young woman lifts her hand from the giant sword she has been clutching tightly and gathering what remains of her strength, lifts her hand up as if to halt the action.

What is she doing?

It's not possible...

Like shooting stars, they watch silently as brightly colored orbs of life race past them in the direction of the earth.

With tears streaming silently down her cheeks, she whispers, We don't deserve another chance.

Don't you… What if we find each other again?

What if I don't recognize you? What if this scene plays out again?

He is silent.

Minutes pass, and with a sad realization, the young woman knows she is alone. When the halo of silver light comes for her, she can only shake her head in defiance.

_AN: Working on a much happier scene to post soon, I promise. _


	22. Trench

_Who? M/N (post-Assassin verse, this would take place after the big incident in the storyline, which I am too lazy to write at this moment.)_

_Mish rating.  
_

**Trench**

He supposed if he really looked at the signs, the reason and deeper meanings behind his actions, he would recognize the undeniable facts which presented themselves, classic and undeniable. However, as any of his friends would tell you, Nicholas Worthington had always been a stubborn man, and refused to believe what was as plain as the patrician nose on his face...

Her contract with the British government had ended, successfully. The Prime Minister's life had indeed been put in danger, but no one in the public would ever hear of the heroics from behind the scenes. The finished document, the 'for eyes only' dossier detailed a proud moment in Nicholas's career, but many within the organization knew it was a stunning Greek assassin for hire who had really saved the day.

Which was why, even though he knew she wouldn't care, nor ever read the reports that outlined her efforts which minimized unnecessary deaths and put a very bad person into custody, he wanted to try and make things right. It was a gloomy day in November and he found himself inside a high end boutique in Knightsbridge. He had long ago memorized her measurements, so it was easy to tell the pretty salesclerk what size to order. He instructed the beautifully wrapped package to be delivered near the end of the day to her charming coffeehouse – newly reopened and already busy again.

"Would you like to write a message?" The green eyed shop assistant asked.

Nicholas thought to himself, wondering if Leda would know it was from him. He didn't want to take credit and didn't care about the price. But, would she make the connection that this gift was to replace the one which had been utterly destroyed in the chaos? Would she see it as the 'thank you' he intended it to be...? A small gesture for all she had done for him and his country?

"No, thank you, please just have it delivered."

Three nights later, he sat alone in his sparsely decorated apartment, unsure what to do or where to go next. The department had given him clearance for a full two weeks paid vacation, entitled for his "services rendered to country." Sipping his Guinness, he placed his pint glass down and sighed. Images of the Maldives, Sri Lanka, or the Seychelles leapt into his mind. The beautiful destinations would be nice, especially in the company of a scantily clad brunette…

A knock on the door caught his attention. A private man, there were very people on earth who knew where his inner sanctuary was located. Checking the CCTV, he saw a recognizable female at his front door.

Opening the door, he crossed his arms and leaned on the frame, stating, "If you're here to tell me 'thank you' it's entirely unnecessary."

"I'm not here to tell you that."

Nicholas took a step back and admired the gift he had sent her. The impeccably tailored, classically timeless trench coat hugged her perfect curves. She had paired the outfit with stacked black boots, putting her at eye level with his plus 6 feet.

"What are you here to say?"

She stepped into his apartment, noted the surroundings and began untying the trench coat. She nodded to the closest chair and ordered, "Sit."

Her tone left no room for argument, so he moved quickly to sit down, wondering what could possibly happen next. Thoughts went out of his head, as his mouth went dry when Leda shrugged, ever so slowly, out of the trench coat he had purchased for her, revealing nothing more than a stunning set of lingerie. Nicholas, who had been without female companionship for the length of the assignment, went immediately hard at the sight, trousers straining as the coat dropped to the ground. Leda was everything he had dreamt of…a trim waist and generous breasts slightly flowing over the top of the green laced corset she was strapped into. Words escaped him. Why was she here? Was this some sort retribution for the boxing match? Would she leave him now that she had completely aroused him?

"I…"

"Yes? Still looking at my tits?" With the part of anatomy in question, she slowly trailed a manicured finger over the magnificent swells.

What else could he say? "I am."

"And what would you like to do with them?"

Nicholas thought through all of his training, desperately trying to come up with some response that wouldn't implicate everything he had longed to do since meeting her in the coffeeshop months ago. Forcefully sitting on his hands, he gruffly cleared his throat and said, "Right now? Or in general?"

"At this moment."

Unable to stand the situation a moment longer, he stood up and backed her into the desk she was closest to. Knowing she could've easily changed his momentum, he had to believe that she was allowing him to get this close, that she intended for her booted feet to leave the ground and wrap around his waist, to pull him in closer. In the small space that remained between their lips, he whispered, "Let me show you."


	23. Boxing

Who? N / L (Assassin!verse! - realized I forgot to post this one, so a bit out of order. Would take place before Trench...)

**Boxing**

_"The lights are spinnin'  
I gotta get myself up off the floor  
My head is ringin'  
Bet they think I can't take too much more  
The crowd is howlin'  
Like the ocean's pounding roar  
My legs are goin' out  
Someone up there don't like me_

_Now my right and my left will decide  
'Cause they're done with this bum takin' dives  
Now my eyes may be swollen with right hooks and tears  
But I see salvation tonight  
In a left and a right."_

**_- Royal Crown Revue, The Contender _**_(forgot how much I loved this band!)_

He preferred using the training facilities before anyone else would come in and distract him. Before dawn, before the day began, before his Blackberry began flashing with messages, before the security threats and office politics…this was the one place he could find some peace - the one location where things still made sense.

"Spent some time in the ring?"

Nick removed his wireless headphones and looked up from the speed bag he had been abusing for at least fifteen minutes. It wasn't that women weren't allowed in this part of the gym, it was just that they rarely strayed into the territory. For some strange reason, he wasn't surprised to see Leda standing in front him, arms crossed, her mahogany hair pulled into a high pony tail revealing classically gorgeous bone structure - even at five in the morning.

"When I was a younger man." He wouldn't mention that before MI6 took over his career, he was the undisputed boxing champion of the airship carrier he had been assigned to.

"Care to spar?"

He hadn't seen her since the incident at the dinner. After the song had ended, although it had literally given him physical pains to do so, he had released her and left the party. The next morning, back at 10 Downing, he consciously avoided her, unsure what he should do or say. She returned the favor by keeping to the kitchens.

That had been three weeks ago.

No movement had been made towards the Prime Minister during the long and drawn out days, but reports continued to suggest that some sinister plan was imminent. All signs pointed to a domestic attack. Everyone on the property continually operated at the highest threat levels. Fortunately, with the PM away at a global summit, both had a few days off to recharge and rest.

Standing in her wonderfully tight black yoga pants, she looked expectantly at him.

He finally answered, "Sure. Will you fight clean?"

"If you promise not to hold back."

On pure muscle and weight, Nick easily had the advantage. However, he knew her stats, she was trained in numerous martial arts, was deadly with or without a weapon, and unlike most women, was only a few inches shorter than his 6'3". He nodded and said, "Let's do this."

Stepping into the ring, they both silently stretched, wrapped their hands, and inserted mouthguards. Touching gloves in the center of the space, she came out abruptly with a swift right hook, nearly catching him off guard. One of his strongest qualities as a boxer was his ability to stay light and fast on his feet. Flashing her a cocky smile, he neatly backed away and, through the plastic in his mouth asked, "That all you got?"

Lightning sparked in her eyes, and she was in front of him in an instant, landing a number of surprisingly strong blows to his core. Noting that she hadn't even broken a sweat, the smallest frame of doubt crept into his mind. Not saying a word, they fought as equals, neither noting the crowd who had gathered to watch. It wasn't until some time later, both glistening in perspiration and breathing heavily that he saw his chance. She had momentarily left her left hand down, creating a window for him to connect. Forgetting societies rules about hitting a woman, he put all his strength into a right cross.

She flew back on the mat.

Although there was silence around them, he didn't feel regret. If anything, he knew she would work harder until their next match...and found himself looking forward to that time.

_AN: Trust me, Nick's a lover, not a fighter._


	24. Tonight the Heartache's on Me

AN: As it's a bit of a crossover from my Cowboys, I was a bit unsure where to put this. However, given it's a separate storyline, I'll keep it in the SxS Shorts category. In case you weren't aware, I have an ongoing Wild West cowboy story also in progress (unrelated to below)...if you haven't read it, please check it out!

Who? My favorite trio – A/K/M.

T for language.

**Tonight, The Hearache's On Me**

_"You could've heard a pin drop when they  
Walked trough the door  
I had to turn my eyes away my heart  
Fell to the floor  
Someone whispered, "Where's her halo?"-  
Cause she had an angel's face  
He stood there smiling holding on to the  
One who took my place._

_So tonight the heartache's on me, on me  
Let's drink a toast to the fool  
who couldn't see  
Bartender, pour the wine 'cause the  
Hurtin's all mine  
Tonight the heartache's on me."_  
**_  
- Heartache's on Me, Dixie Chicks_**

Light gray eyes scanned the ID card and looked up into the pretty, if tear stained, face of the petite blonde who was tapping a booted heel impatiently. Handing the Michigan driver's license back across, he said, "Pretty far from home, aren't you, Miss Aino?"

"Not that it's any of your business," she said angrily as she tucked the plastic card into her worn stuffed to capacity leather bag.

"Be our guest," Keith grumbled, dipping his cowboy hat as he moved aside, allowing her to pass into the dingy, smoky interior of the Lumber Yard. He watched her walk in angry grace across the small dance floor to the bar. It was nearing 8PM on a Saturday night and in Serenity Lake, the local scene was picking up. While he made most of his money on the bull riding circuit, Keith Sullivan occasionally helped out Ethan at the bar. Pocketing a few twenties at the end of the night for security and general muscle wasn't something he was at a point of saying no to. Plus, scoring the occasional out of town date didn't hurt. Chances were, Miss Angry and Frustrated from Michigan would be singing a different tune by the end of the night.

Keith forgot about the blonde as the usual 9PM crush came through – familiar faces, friends from high school, and other cowboys were all out on this fine May evening. After the rush ceased, he grabbed a long gulp from an amber beer bottle, then wiped his lips and threw the empty container into the nearby recycling bin.

A young man with a backwards Detroit Tigers hat and a pair of jeans three sizes too big walked up from the darkness, flicking a lit cigarette into the parking lot. Keith's jaw twitched in irritation, but Ethan didn't pay him to start fights, only keep them from happening. Keith crossed his arms and not so much asked, as stated, "ID."

The young man pulled out his wallet and handing it over, asked, "You seen a blonde come through here earlier?"

Keith had seen plenty – both those with naturally colored hair and the phony peroxide kind that came out of a bottle, but guessed this guy had a specific one in mind. Noting the same state, Michigan, he quickly surmised his hunch was correct. Finally, Keith answered, "May have."

"Dude, I fucked up."

Keith had no real interest in his story, but remembering the woman, couldn't believe she was with a guy like this and replied, "That's nice."

Not taking the hint, Adam from Michigan said, "It's like you try everything, but come on, we're in our twenties, it's not like I can be in a relationship with just one lady at a time. Why can't they understand that?"

Keith, who still had Adam's license, handed it back and said plainly, "Sorry, men from Michigan aren't allowed in tonight."

Adam's mouth opened in disbelief and Keith added, "No, you cannot take your complaint up with the owner – he's my best friend and won't give two fucks what you think, now be on your way and don't bother coming back."

As tough as Adam thought he was, he was quick enough to note that the bouncer easily had fifty pounds of muscle on him and wandered away mumbling expletives.

"Thanks for doing that."

Keith turned around and saw a now obviously inebriated Mina Aino leaning heavily on the door frame. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he said, "It was no trouble."

"He's an asshole."

"I figured."

They were quiet and nothing but the thumping bass from the inside of the club permeated the night. Without knowing why, he asked, "Where are you staying tonight?"

"We were on our way to Vegas." She stumbled towards the parking lot and sang drunkenly, "Going to the chapel…"

"Changed your mind?"

She stopped twirling and said, "Somewhere around the Illinois state line, actually."

"So, do your parents know where you are?"

Pitching her voice low like his, she repeated, "'Do your parents know where you are?'"

"Very mature."

"That's me."

"If you can sober up by closing, I'll let you crash on my couch."

Perking up, she looked at him and asked, "You trust me?"

"Is there a reason why I shouldn't?"

Visibly concentrating on the question, she finally answered, "No."


	25. Under the Big Top

_Cheer up fic written for a friend. No, not stealing Water for Elephants. Seriously, the Shitennou are better than RPatz any day._  
**_  
Who? R/J_**

**Under the Big Top  
**  
She rides a white Arabian, balancing gracefully on the stallion's back – no fear, black hair steaming behind her like a flag. She is off limits to everyone in the company – a pristine young woman who, with her recent engagement, will one day rise above this chaotic life. The daughter of the ringleader, what hope does he have? As part of the trapeze act he is a performer, but not even good enough to share a table with her during mealtimes.

He lives for this moment. The brief second during the show where he spends uncompromised time in her presence is one he looks forward to all day. As applause thunders throughout the tent, she bows and collects some of the flowers and posies showered upon her. She steps out of the bright spotlight and passes him near the entrance. Tonight, she gifts him with a direct look. Catching her amethyst eyes, he savors the image and sends a grin in her direction. The response is one he's received previously - a sad smile - an expression he is desperate remedy.

Surprising himself, he reaches out and grabs her equally callused hands between his own. "The stable car, tonight?"

"Y-Yes."

Following the rest of his team, he stumbles forward - the phony smile on his face is replaced by a beaming natural one as he climbs towards the soaring top of the tent.


	26. A Long December

_Who? M/K, Professor!verse  
_

_Follow up to The Sculptor._

**A Long December**

_A long December and there's reason to believe  
Maybe this year will be better than the last  
I can't remember the last thing you said as you were leavin'  
Now the days go by so fast_

_And it's one more day up in the canyons  
And it's one more night in Hollywood  
If you think that I could be forgiven... I wish you would_

_The smell of hospitals in winter  
And the feeling that it's all a lot of oysters, but no pearls  
All at once you look across a crowded room  
To see the way that light attaches to a girl_

_And it's one more day up in the canyons  
And it's one more night in Hollywood  
If you think you might come to California... I think you should.  
_**_  
- Long December, Counting Crows (live version is best)_**

After the sale of Venus Felix had launched him into the stratosphere of art and sculpture, Keith had used some of the money from the outrageous selling price to return to where he grew up – the hills of Hollywood. The only son of a relatively successful actress and a studio executive, he couldn't have asked for more supportive parents. Recognizing his artistic abilities at an early age, they had provided numerous teachers and mentors, family trips were to Europe to see the work of previous masters, and Christmas presents were usually some sort of top of the line sculpting tool, canvas, or paint. It wasn't a traditional childhood, but it was one that had brought him a lot of happiness. At the end of the day, aside from all the glamour, his parents had an incredibly happy marriage and it was something he craved.

Flipping on the television one evening in December, he was irritated to see some sort of trashy 'infotainment' show on the screen. Moving to change the channel, he paused when a familiar face flashed past.

_Her _face.

Part of the reason he had escaped the university was because of the memories of her – they were undeniable and everywhere. Tucked away, hidden in the Hills, he didn't have to face their brief past. Turning the volume up, an obnoxiously upbeat anchor said, "The fairytale romance continues… Mina Atkins, most well known for being the model of Keith Logan's worldwide sensation, Venus Felix, has just announced her engagement to the buyer of the sculpture, Ace Gordon."

Keith cringed as he watched the screen – a montage of Mina's quick rise from college junior to one of the most sought after models in the world. Globally, people were delighted that she and Ace, a politically connected, media savvy millionaire had hit it off. Their pictures were constantly splashed on magazine covers and celebrity websites.

The sculptor zapped the mute button, but was unable to tear his gaze from the screen. Disappointment washed over him, forcing him to recognize feelings he had been trying to escape. His cell phone rang. Checking the ID, he was surprised to see Mina's name appear on the screen.

Trying to clear emotion from his voice, he answered gruffly, "Hello?"

"Keith?"

"Yes."

"Oh…is now a good time to talk?"

"What time zone are you calling from?"

"Tokyo."

"That's nice."

Silence stretched across the thousands of miles that separated them. He refused to ask why she was calling, or congratulate her on her engagement.

"So, I have a favour to ask."

"What would that be?"

"I, um, Ace asked me to marry him."

"Mmm-hmmm." Keith, uncharacteristically nervous and unable to keep still began pacing the large foyer.

"I wondered if you could help me with a wedding present."

There was nothing on earth he wanted to do less, and yet, it was impossible to deny any request she had of him. He asked, "What kind of help? Does he want something else from the Venus series?"

"I wanted to commission a new piece."

"With you?"

"Yes."

He hesitated and answered, "I'm fairly busy."

"Please?"

Keith sighed loudly and said, "Sure, when will you be in town?"

He could hear her ruffling through some papers and said, "I've got a free week in January. Are you still on campus? I could meet you at—"

"I moved. I'm in Los Angeles, will that still work?"

"I, uh, okay…if you could just me the address."

"No problem. I need to get back to something – see you soon."

"Thank—" Not caring how rude it was, Keith hung up the phone.

Looking out over the lights of the San Fernando valley he sighed loudly. Leaning his head on the glass, he could only think of one thing to say, "Fuck."


	27. Get By With A Little Help

_AN: What's this? A linear storyline? Next part in the Sculptor series._

**Get By With A Little Help...  
**

"Hey Jack, it's been a long time." Keith greeted his friend, surprised to hear from his former neighbor.

"Sure has – how's the Left Coast treating you?"

"Can't complain – and hey, looks like your move to D.C. went well."

"It's getting there."

"And how are things with the senator's daughter?"

Jack chuckled lightly and said, "Seriously, I can't thank you enough – thanks for giving me that kick in the ass during Spring Break."

"That good, huh?"

"Yeah, she's incredible. Anyway, she's kind of the reason I'm calling."

Keith had never met Raye, a former student of Jack's. He wondered what the connection could possibly be. Frowning slightly, he asked, "What's that?"

"It's about your girlfriend."

"She's not my—"

"I know, buddy, just keep telling yourself that." Jack had seen straight through Keith's constant refusal to acknowledge his interest in the model of the Venus sculpture. His friend had unmercifully teased him about it for most of the fall semester. Not letting Keith argue the point further, he continued, "Anyway, it turns out she and Raye have actually become pretty decent friends. We've been invited to the wedding. They're trying to be all romantic or some shit and having it on Valentine's Day."

"And?" Keith had no patience to discuss Mina's upcoming nuptials and didn't want to think of the reasons why the ceremony would be so rushed.

"We both know people who know Ace."

"Good for you two."

"Don't get bitchy with me. I've heard it from a few sources that Ace has been less than faithful. Raye has more or less confirmed this from some of her connections."

"So? Mina's got her own life. It's her bed to sleep in."

"Raye said you would probably say that. She also said, and I agree, 'to get your head out of your ass.'"

Keith refused to respond.

"Raye tried to bring up the topic with Mina, but Mina wouldn't hear it."

"So what? I'm supposed to be the one to make her listen? When are you going to get it, Jack? She was my model, end of story." Keith clenched the inside of his cheek - the lie felt bitter in his mouth. Mina was the reason for everything - she was his muse, the inspiration for his renewed passion in sculpture, the source of his current creativity.

Keith could literally hear Jack roll his eyes and his friend said, "You're seeing her soon, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"Quit being paranoid. She mentioned it to Raye."

The sculptor desperately wanted to know in what context the conversation happened, but refused to ask. He grudgingly agreed, "I am."

"Well, just think about it. I'm calling you and telling you the truth - remember what you told me? Seems like you could dose of your own medicine."

"I'll consider it."

"Do that - but don't wait too long, Keith. The window is going to close soon."


	28. The Big Bang

AN: Grab a cool drink, kids – there are sexytimes ahead. This one gets an M rating. Part next in prof!verse for the Sculptor.

_"I don't wanna lie,  
I'm gonna take what you're giving  
'cause I know you're willing,  
To take me all the way…you got me right here,  
Combustible and I can't wait to finally explode._

_The big big bang, the reason I'm alive,  
When all the stars collide, in this universe inside.  
The big big bang."_

_**The Big Bang – Rock Mafia** (my current song obsession – I do not care that Miley is in the video)_

As usual, she is on time. Even though his home is notoriously difficult to find, she is there, on his door step promptly at 2PM. Like some January days in Southern California, this one is rainy – blanketing the hillside in a soft gray mist, effectively shutting them off from the rest of the world.

"Come in." His voice is much huskier than he intends it to be.

"Thanks – you have a nice place." She looks around, noting the eclectic ambiance.

Mina had never visited his home at the University. He had never taken her to his private studio, but he has pictured there countless times. In creating Venus Felix, she had been everywhere. And now, she is here. After months apart, it doesn't seem possible that she is standing in front of him. She is thinner than he remembers and her face has lost some of its radiance. The dark smudges under eyes match the ones on his face.

He turns around and walks downstairs to his spacious studio. Silently, she follows him.

He doesn't ask if she wants anything to drink, or if he can take her coat. His hands twitch with tension – if she so much as brushes up against him… He believed he had taken care of any reaction his body might have by indulging in a marathon masturbation session the previous day – finally allowing himself to picture the two of them together. And yet, with her here, in his house, knowing she will soon be naked, he isn't surprised to have a physical reaction.

"Over here." He has set up a simple drop cloth with a worn wooden stool in front of it. Soft lighting creates an ethereal glow in the space. Earlier in the day, he travelled downtown to the Flower District to pick up a stunning bouquet of roses. Their heady fragrance dominates the room.

"Should I…?"

"Disrobe." Allowing her privacy he turns around and collects his sketch pad and various drawing utensils. Trying to control his shaking hands, he reminds himself this is not any different from previous sessions. She is his subject, he is the artist. He tells himself that he is in control of the situation. He mumbles, "I hope you're not too cold, I turned up the heat about an hour before you got here."

"It's fine. Where do you want me to sit?"

He turns around and refusing to look anywhere but her face, asks, "Aren't you going to tell me what you want?"

"I…" She hesitates.

"For your wedding gift, what you want for your…Ace." Keith struggles with his clarification. In another world, he wishes she would tell him exactly how she wanted it and where she wanted it. Unfortunately, in this universe, this time, she is about to explain what sort of present she has in mind for her fiancé.

Naked as the day she was born, she picks up a particularly lovely rose and seats herself gracefully on the stool, saying, "I leave it up to you."

All of the inside jokes, the teasing, the quasi-relationship they once shared is gone. Is there something that can replace it? Keith struggles. He looks at his canvas. He can't do this. He can't pretend for one second longer.

He puts his pencil down and stares at her.

"What are you…?"

"Something I should've done a long time ago."

He is at her side, simultaneously picking her up and violently assaulting her lips with his own - stumbling towards the large futon he keeps in the far corner of the room. He doesn't consider rejection, doesn't comprehend she will turn him down. He knows what she won't say – this entire endeavor is a farce - that she knew what was going to happen when she walked through the door. Every moment from the time they spoke on the phone weeks ago has been eternity, but it has brought them here. And then her hands are on him, needfully urging him to divest of his own garments – to be as unclothed as she is. When he is stripped bare, he pauses above her, looking into her lovely eyes – the color of the Caribbean.

"What took you so long?" she whispers.

He thinks of all the wasted months. All the frustration. The sleepless nights. Keeping his gunmetal stare on her, he says, "My pride."

Then she reaches between them, swiftly guiding him towards her already wet and willing body. He needs no further encouragement and swiftly pushes forward, nearly losing himself in the heat. He is home.


	29. Round Table

**Round Table**

Written on some ancient tablet, it is foretold a powerful knight will bring down an unbreakable kingdom from within its sturdy walls. As centuries move forward, the prophecy is forgotten and falls out of memory. The world continues to turn, the seasons change, and, in time, the empire of Elysion grows powerful.

The bravest soldier in the land serves his liege without question, without fail. The silver haired chevalier stands at the circular table with his brothers at arms, men he is proud to serve with – men he would gladly die for. Although there is no head of the round table they share, it is one man they serve. Descended from chaos, Endymion is without fail – the epitome of excellence. His loyal men hail from four distant corners of the kingdom and together they quest and protect the less fortunate, honoring the code of chivalry. In their lives, there is no room for romantic love – only the highest calling of faithful service to their dark haired prince.

After many years of serving together, their liege marries a beautiful princess from another land. Taking their places as rightful King and Queen, the pair looks forward to a continued reign of perfection. All is at is should be in their lands.

With various enemies and other jealous factions outside their stronghold, the young Queen is kidnapped and he, as the strongest, goes to rescue her. Fighting various challenges along the way, Sir Kunzite arrives and makes haste to retrieve her from the tall tower in which she has been imprisoned. Wrapping her in his billowing scarlet cloak, he tucks her into his arms and makes way for Elysion. Knowing what his shield stands for, the vows he has made to King and country, he is undone the moment she presses herself towards against his cold chain mail. Does she make this movement on accident or is something further implied? Although he guides his steed stoically forward, the feeling within him is one he's not experienced before. While there was never a jealous bone in his body, he now craves what his not his. Understanding his thoughts are sacrilegious, he fiercely longs for her to break her communion with God and her husband and stray from the marriage he now views as a formal and antiquated function.

Upon return to the kingdom, his foster mother, the scarlet haired Lady of the Lake, listens to what he will not even share with his brothers of the sword. She whispers in his ear…tells him the Queen should be his. The seeds of discourse take root. In the mind of the faithful soldier, he does not view his thoughts as a betrayal of his King, but rather a recognition of feelings is incapable of denying. For all the years he has served, this must be his reward.

Ever a man of action, he begins stalking her and is surprised to find his pursuit unnecessary. Rewarded with the new title of 'Queen's Champion,' Serenity easily finds excuses to meet him, to be alone with her chevalier. In the dark shadows of the castle, they find places to come together. In one exceptionally daring encounter he takes her wildly and forcefully on the Round Table and makes no effort to silence her passionate screams.

As the fever burns away, Sir Kunzite is surprised to find his love remains. What he hoped was a minor affair grows to something far greater. While the threat of discovery hangs heavily over the lovers, he cannot imagine life without his precious Serenity. Nor can he imagine an existence without his service to Elysion. And so he continues to serve his King and love his Queen. Many sleepless nights he spends wandering through the corridors, simultaneously terrified and excited of the day when Endymion will find out the truth.

_AN: Would love to see how you think the SM verse could fill out the Arthurian cast of characters._


	30. Reflections

**Reflections**

Like the graceful young women they were alleged to be, the princesses of the Moon and Venus respectively tried to contain boisterous giggles as they raced through the western corridor of the expansive palace. Teenagers for only a few years, their lives burst with optimism. Born royalty of the Silver Millennium, their days were carefree with only hints of the responsibilities that would one day be expected of them. With Uranus and Neptune visiting from the outer reaches of the galaxy, the curious girls sneaked into the outer senshi's apartments. It was always a treat when the older women visited, and, doting on the younger princesses, the couple usually packed special treasures picked up from around the galaxy. Unable to wait until their scheduled meeting later in the day, the inseparable friends had snuck away with intent of uncovering their presents.

Although they had both recently started playing grown up – the outer senshi's rooms reeked of untold experiences and the former confidence of the pair gave way. Not sighting any fancily wrapped items, Venus considered returning to their chambers when she sighted something near the bed. Nudging Serenity, she said, "You go first."

"No, you! Aren't you supposed to be the leader of my senshi?"

Venus stuck her tongue out in response.

"Fine, you pick up the sword."

"Why me?"

"Silly, you already have one!"

Venus could not deny this fact. The heavy stone weapon was a constant reminder of the normal life she would never lead. "What are you going to play with?"

"How about this?"

Serenity motioned towards the intricately carved hand mirror that lay directly next to the space sword. Although there were undoubtedly be a lecture and stern warning, the Venusian senshi was too inquisitive as to what would happen next.

"I dare you!"

The Lunar crown princess needed no further push. Ever a bundle of curiosity, she stretched a sweaty palm forward and extended her small digit. The moment her finger came in contact with the mirror, there was a brilliant flash of silver light. When the flare died away, the pair looked into the reflection. Their pretty faces were no longer to be seen, instead the room they inhabited had been replaced with another location and in their place were two young men, slightly older than themselves.

As if the young men could hear and see them, both girls leaped backwards, breathing heavily.

At the broken contact, the mirror changed back to a normal reflection.

"Who were they?" Serenity whispered.

"Pick it up – let's see if we can find them again."

Curiosity once again got the best of Serenity and she managed to swallow the jolt of energy as she picked up the talisman. As if in real time, the scene continued, showing two young men sparring, but in a good natured way – much like the daily practices Venus led. In this place, nothing like the quiet expanses of the moon, strange but beautiful flowers blossomed and hung heavily. Venus could imagine plucking one and smelling its undoubtedly sweet fragrance. The men, one dark haired, the other with silver hair like Serenity's, were shirtless as they moved and clashed gracefully against each other. Wordlessly, the girls looked on for soundless minutes, eagerly following their every movement.

Finally taking a still trembling hand away, Serenity said, "I wonder who they are."

As the years moved forward, the scene and men from the mirror remained Serenity and Venus's secret. Some nights, very late when the others were sleeping, they would speak in hushed tones about what they had seen. As their powers grew, Serenity became more and more curious about transporting to the magical garden, intent on finding out answers to the mystery.

"You have no idea what dangers could be waiting! You need to remain protected on the moon. If your mother knew-"

"It would only be for a minute. Anyway, that place could be anywhere in the Alliance…"

They both knew this statement was a lie. As far as they had been able to research (without involving Mercury's significant contribution), the place they had seen was Earth. They still had no idea who the two young men were. And now, three years later, Venus wondered what the pair had done with their lives – had they married? Did they have sweethearts? Had some terrible incident befallen both of them? As the Moon had forbidden anything but the most basic of diplomatic association with the planet, the young women had no way of knowing anything further.

"And how exactly would we get there? You know the transport room is forbidden to us."

"There's another way…"

"How is that and why haven't you mentioned it earlier?"

"I only just found out. There is another element to Pluto's time gate."

Venus crossed her arms and said, "So what you're saying is you are planning to go, whether I go with you or not?"

"V..."

Drawing her friend in close, Venus whispered, "Don't make me choose between love and duty."

_AN: Two parter...next part won't be so nice.  
_


	31. Reflections II

**Reflections II**

Watching the scene of terror unfold around her, Venus summoned her remaining strength and transported herself to the furthest reaches of the Lunar Kingdom. In between worlds and time, there was Pluto and the Space-Time Door she so fiercely guarded. In what seemed lifetimes ago, Venus recalled she and Serenity's nervous trip to visit the Soldier of Revolution. On the reverse side of the great Door was a magnificent mirror, and served as Pluto's form of transport when she was called upon by the Queen. The young princess has begged one use of it and the trip had resulted in her first introduction to the Terran Prince.

Already wounded, the Venusian senshi leaned heavily on her sword. Her demands were simple. Coughing blood and spitting it roughly to the ethereal ground below, she said, "Let me go back."

"It is forbidden."

"This could all be turned around. It doesn't have to end this way." Seeing her sister senshi die at the hands of those they loved. Venus closed her eyes to try and block the image of Serenity taking a blade to her chest. How did Pluto not understand?

"You ask for the impossible." Unharmed and unscathed, the older woman moved gracefully, taking the tall scepter and placing it defensively in front of her body. The message was clear. Go away. The elder senshi stood in a ready stance in front of the great door which loomed dramatically behind her.

Venus had nothing left to live for. Her princess was dead; her lover - the one who had betrayed her, had been killed by her own hands. If she could go back in time – if they had never picked up the mirror…there was still a chance. She wouldn't have met him. Serenity and Endymion wouldn't have fallen in love. As much as she treasured their time together, she would rather Kunzite lived than having even met him.

"You would rather see our empire collapse? Your princess die? We both know the talismans have chimed – she will be here soon to end everything. There are precious seconds left."

"It goes against the rules which protect us." There was no remorse in her husky voice.

Venus let her sword clatter to the ground. She had no strength to hold it. Fingering the familiar weight of the chain at her side, she knew her only chance was to separate the outer senshi from her mighty weapon. And yet she could hear the echo of 'Dead Scream' forming on her opponent's lips…

"Venus Love Me Chain!" The chain shot out quickly from her hand, and catching Pluto off guard, she pulled as hard as she could, dragging the rod to the ground. The garnet topped device came to rest between them.

Pluto turned a booted heel towards her talisman and warned, "Do not test me, Venus."

"How can you just stand there? We're already dead! How do you want to live your last seconds?"

Somewhere in the depths of space the Soldier of Destruction awoke and began an unbreakable series of commands.

Maroon eyes flashed and the older woman answered, "I will die at my post!"

Blood poured freely from a wound in Venus's side as she collapsed to the ground, whispered, "You...we could have changed the past..."

Like so many things, what could have been never was.


	32. Through The Looking Glass

_AN: I came up with a frustratingly high concept piece completely unrelated to everything…let's see if I can execute this thing._

_Who? Crossover of sorts. Venus x Eames (Kunzite) SM / Inception.  
_

_M-ish rating._

**The Looking Glass**

In an instant Crystal Tokyo freezes – locking its inhabitants into a deep sleep which they are powerless to stop or awake from. Some move to a place in between the Galaxy Cauldron and the next, others enter the world of dreams – slipping into worlds never previously possible.

The landscape changes dramatically. She faces a foe familiar to her in a scene she never wants to see again and yet keeps reoccurring.

As the Silver Millennium comes to its final and terrible end around them, he parries as she lunges.

They go through actions she has long remembered. Slide, jump, whip, punch. In every dream she's ever had, it always ends the same.

The blow of energy – the electric blue heat which comes from his fingertips doesn't surprise her, however, the death blow this time throws her into another place…

She doesn't wake up in her bed. She is not safely tucked into the East Wing of the Crystal Palace. Instead she is very much alive in another place. Where she was once the leader of the Inner Scouts, now she is herself…circa a much younger version. Somehow transported to London, a city which still exists in the 30th century, this metropolis belongs to the early twenty-first century. Her instincts, honed through the centuries, keep her on edge.

And yet, people pass by her, busy, uninterested – going about their normal lives. Realizing she is breathing heavily, she slowly calms herself by concentrating on each breath as it moves in and out of her lungs. While she regains her composure, she focuses on her surroundings. Gone is the pristine skyline of Crystal Tokyo, absent are the remains of her past - all replaced by gritty streets, bracing cold, and overcast skies. In the future, Neo-Queen Serenity's powers extend to the stratosphere, and nearly every day appears with clear skies and temperate conditions.

As she looks down, gone is her fuku, replaced by ordinary clothes she forgot existed. Here, there is no familiar weight of her sword, but she moves a hand to her waist and notes a decorative chain. Relieved by its presence, she feels grounded for the first time since arriving to this strange place.

She stands on the Millennium Bridge. A man approaches her. She knows him instantly – once upon a dream they were something without definition. In the previous reality, he killed her and she murdered him. What has changed between this place and the last? Fingering the chain at her waist, she watches him closely. In his hands, she sees he carries flat pink stone which he flips over his knuckles.

"You're here…"

"So are you."

She knows she should be angry with him, but doesn't see the point of it. Whatever spell he had been under previously is broken. Like the waters of the Thames rushing below them, she lets those feelings go.

"Why?"

"Does it matter? We're together. We have another chance."

Another chance for you to betray me? Another chance for you to end my life? She doesn't ask these questions because she's distracted by him. He is more charming than she remembers. There is something about him that is a fraction off – but any soul reborn thousands of years later would change, wouldn't it? Although his suit has changed his face is the same – stoic, handsome, with perfectly sculpted lips.

He reaches out and clasps her hand. The vague need for her to be somewhere else slips away. They walk silently through the crowded city. Without asking, he leads her to a posh hotel, through the ornate lobby and up to a deluxe suite. Producing a key, he opens the door. She enters the room. In what reality would this scene have ever been possible? The remnants of her previous dream keep her wary.

The Kunzite-not Kunzite man helps her out of her jacket and removes his own immaculate suit coat, revealing a custom fitted shirt stretched across his broad frame.

The slow burn which started when she first glimpsed him on the bridge is now a full flame.

The rest of their clothes are quickly discarded.

If this is a dream, she may as well enjoy herself. There are many things she would like to discuss with him, but the conversation can wait.

On muscular forearms, he holds himself above her. She feels the long hard length of him against her inner thigh and holds her breath, ready, anxious for him to join her. At the exact moment he moves forward, she is roughly shaken from her dream world. The space is suddenly too bright, shining around her, blocking out the dim lighting of the hotel room. Everything is as it should be – Crystal Tokyo sparkles with incandescent light blotting out the fading images of London.

While the other senshi gather around their Queen, Venus remains still…yearning to go back into the dream.


	33. Conception

_AN: Written for Angsty April on LJ._

**Conception**

Across the universe, it was widely known that life was rarely created from interplanetary unions. For those couples who found love together, they resolutely accepted a life without children naturally borne to them. The curse seemed a terrible one, but the deep connection was said to sustain these pairings.

In these couples, there was no concern for traditional birth control methods as they were entirely unneeded. Should the pair be so fortunate to conceive, it was viewed as a blessing of the gods themselves – a once in a generation occurrence with the resulting offspring leading heroic and extraordinary lives.

Thus, when the Lunar princess joined with the Terran prince in holy matrimony, there were whispers across the galaxy that there would be no succession – that two major dynasties would become extinct. The whispers grew to rumors, and within the Terran prince's once glorious golden kingdom, a dark force took hold. The people could not – would not – accept an end to the beloved line of Endymion. While Serenity and Endymion tried to reassure their subjects that the stars themselves had predicted a beloved and powerful child borne to the next generation, the people wanted to ensure proper lineage. A scarlet haired woman, recently vocal about the demise of the Terrans, promised she could give them the heir they so desperately craved.

While the great machine of war grew, a distracted population let other grievances go overlooked. For a short time, love fiercely blossomed between the great shitennou and Serenity's senshi – unions consummated in covert places, moments snuck in unlikely venues. Inevitably, the loyal guardians were finally forced to return to their original and rightful places on opposite sides of the war.

When the end came and the battleground stretched around the quartet,in time, only the strongest pair remained.

"You pause. Why?" He had never known her to be cautious in anything.

Her blue gaze darted away from his piercing silver one. With her liege dead, the Moon in ruins, and the Lunar kingdom nearly under the rule of a new queen, he wondered why she wouldn't surrender. In their short time together, he recognized her to be loyal and strong, but not without reason. Why did she falter?

"What if we could go back?" She answered his question with one of her own.

"To where?"

The hand not upon her sword pressed upon the smooth abdomen he knew to be taut and golden. While he gazed upon his former lover, his vision hovering over the slight swell in her shredded fuku, she glanced back to the now lifeless body of his Prince. While she had first wondered at his brave commitment to Serenity, now she second guessed his motives. Faced with a very real defeat, had Endymion ended his life because of the fate he had seen before him? Had he known he would be forced to couple with that terrible woman? To give rise to a generation of unwanted children? Had his sacrifice been to stop a terrible future?

Turning her attention back to the man in the tattered cape, she wondered if she was capable of the same bravery. Against everything she believed, against the very gods she was descended from, she knew the unborn baby which grew inside her was not destined for greatness as so many previous unions had produced. While created in love, what future would this child be born to? A mother enslaved and a murderous father?

Holding up the great sword of the Moon, Venus swiftly drove the weapon deep inside her womb.

_AN: Enough._


	34. So Cruel

_AN: With motivation from a book I just finished – Self Help by Lorrie Moore (great collection of short stories). Also, it's still Angsty April!_

**So Cruel.**

_"We crossed the line_  
_Who pushed who over_  
_It doesn't matter to you_  
_It matters to me_

_We're cut adrift_  
_But still floating_  
_I'm only hanging on_  
_To watch you go down_  
_My love…_

_I disappeared in you_  
_You disappeared from me_  
_I gave you everything you ever wanted_  
_It wasn't what you wanted."_

**_- So Cruel, U2_**

**The End**

The dark haired man says, 'There's nothing that can be done' as you sit in an overly formal living room looking at a box of stones. Tea steams next to this precious container, releasing scents of jasmine and other exotic fragrances. You can't seem to look away. One of these mineral deposits speaks strongly to you, urging you to clasp it in your hand and hold on tightly - to never let go. The pale pink color seems an impossible fit for the sturdy persona you associate it with.

'We tried,' says your other regent, pale and beautiful. She has her own gem – much more than any ordinary stone, one of the most powerful jewels in all the galaxy. How could it not work? you silently demand. The brilliant device has been responsible for saving entire worlds.

'You didn't try hard enough,' you finally answer, 'This time was supposed to be different, or else, what have we been fighting for?'

Your question hangs in the balance as you leave silently. Some leader you turned out to be.

**Almost**

When he appears in your life again, it leaves you breathless - much as it did the first time. Although he is clearly under the Red Queen's power, although he is an enemy and a threat to your princess, you wonder if any remnants of his former self are hiding. The young man's words come back to haunt you. In the end it is your powerful blow that kills him again. From this point forward, as if a small piece of you has died, you carry numbly on.

**An End**

The young man tells you, 'My path ends, without ever reaching you... That is my fate...'

'Is your fate to yourself defeat the ones I've fallen in love with?' you ask.

He throws a card to you.

'I'll tell your final love fortune,' he says. 'Your love will be hopeless for all eternity.'

You stare blankly at him. You are the senshi of love and beauty, this fate cannot be.

'What's wrong?' he says, gasping for breath. 'You should look happier. Now you can go on living, without having to torment yourself over the ultimate choice, your love or your duty. Your fate is to continue fighting.'

His body slowly disintegrates as you try to hold onto him.

**Begin Again**

Without realizing your sister senshi have also been reborn, you begin training in a new life, far from the open spaces of the Moon. With nothing of your former passion, you hold an innocent crush on a young man. You long to be an idol. While this time around seems less chaotic, it also feels empty.

**Early**

His still warm blood pours over your hands. How did it come to this?

**Earlier**

Without warning, you fall headlong into reckless and dangerous affair. Perhaps you could have stopped things. Perhaps you could have avoided seeing him again after the garden. You'll never know. You are powerless. He is your world, the Princess is your sun and the rest be damned.

**Earliest**

You had heard stories of the earth for ages, had seen pictures of it in books, but once arriving on its green surface you are entirely unprepared for its wonders. Tasked on a simple mission to return your Princess who ducked guards while you were busy planning with your other warrior sisters, as leader you nominated yourself.

In a garden unlike any other, you breathe in deeply. It is her laughter that catches your attention and reminds you why you are here. Above all else, you have a duty to perform. Placing an ever steady hand on the chain about your trim waist you walk forward.

Your liege sits with two men, apparently in no danger whatsoever. And yet, you are on edge. Silver eyes are alerted to your presence before the lovers are even aware you are near. You hold his stare, unafraid and curious. His gaze is so like yours – searching for threats – real and imaginary.

"It must be difficult having a bundle of curiousity for a princess," he says in passing, apparently dismissing you as a foe.

You collect her, and wonder about him for weeks after. He challenges you in a way few others have been able to. What impact will he have on your life?


	35. Agent V

_AN: Assassin!verse._

**Agent V**

As her assigned mark, she watched him. Studied him. His mannerisms, his likes and dislikes. With assistance from her IT friend, she knew which websites he looked at – what turned him on, that he kept in regular contact with friends, that he was apparently planning an elaborate trip to Nepal. Meticulously going through his trash, she knew he secretly fancied himself a gourmet cook and would spend hours on perfecting recipes.

She let him watch her, planned which parts of her personality he would be allowed to see. Drew him in to a fantasy world of hers that didn't really exist.

With a telephoto lens, she had a catalogue of hundreds of pictures of the man she only knew as Agent K. With full transparency to her superiors, she could admit his face was one of the most handsome she had ever seen – it didn't impact her work, but it did make the long hours more enjoyable. In private, she learned what the most subtle changes in his chiselled features meant. Now and then she wondered what it would be like to have those perfect lips on her own.

When she was finally given the greenlight to make contact, she felt as nervous as a schoolgirl. Letting herself into the apartment she had visited previously, she marvelled at its pristine nature – so unlike her own dishevelled shabby chic. How did one person maintain such order?

Hearing him approach, she took her position and held her breath. Hand on her trusty Smith and Wesson, she calmed herself as the door sprang open.


	36. Row, Row, Row Your Boat

_**AN: Based on the earlier interaction and a side story a friend of mine wrote.**_

**J (University!verse).**

_Weep for yourself, my man,  
You'll never be what is in your heart  
Weep Little Lion Man,  
You're not as brave as you were at the start  
Rate yourself and rake yourself,  
Take all the courage you have left  
Wasted on fixing all the problems  
That you made in your own head..._

_But it was not your fault but mine_  
_And it was your heart on the line_  
_I really fucked it up this time_  
_Didn't I, my dear?_  
_Didn't I, my dear?_

**_- Little Lion Man, Mumford and Sons_**

The air was crisp in the early spring morning. Fog lifted off the calm waters – broken only by the deep pull of oars into the surface as a single rower intently glided across the river. Jack Spellman slid fluidly in place, pumping back and forth, finding a perfect rhythm in the rosy dawn glow. A late addition to the rich man's sport, Jack was surprised he was a natural and enjoyed the activity as a solitary form of exercise. Usually rowing had been a place to collect his thoughts, now, although he tried, each stroke failed to remove the image of her from his head.

She had been in his office.

She had kissed him.

Nothing had been the same since.

Sweat dripped in his eyes, burning them. Not breaking his stride, he quickly wiped a strong forearm across his face, clearing his vision. Muscles screaming, he continued to push back and propel himself forward.

At a recent black tie affair, he intended to attend and network with heavy political hitters, charming them with his youth and wit. Then, like something from a dream, she appeared. Poised, and calm she was what every politician longed to have in their arsenal. Miss Rei Hino was well spoken, beautiful, and intelligent - resplendent in a couture scarlet gown.

Like a punch to the stomach, he replayed the picture in his mind…he had sought her amethyst eyes out, only to have her look away after the briefest of glances. She was on the arm of Chad (no last name) some shit hot Eurotrash 'football' player who modelled on the side. Although Chad had a few inches on Jack's nearly 6 feet, Jack kept his chilled ocean eyes on the young man throughout the evening – willing for the multi-millionaire to step out of line.

Well, he meant to keep eyes on the brat. Three double scotch and waters later, Jack was dangerously close to loosing control. Holding the small digital screen to his face, he scrolled through his cell phone and stumbled on the number of his neighbor. In Jack's drunk logic, he figured the sculptor probably kept strange hours and wouldn't mind coming to pick him up.

"Who's the girl?" Keith asked, taking in Jack's sorry condition – rumpled tuxedo, untucked shirt, reeking of alcohol.

"What d'you meansh?"

"I find it hard to believe that Jack Sullivan, pride of the political science department, would get this drunk at such an important event," Keith said in an amused tone, pulling into the drive through of a nearby fast food chain.

"What's this?"

"You'll thank me in the morning," Kevin said, ordering the largest plate of chili cheese fries on the menu.

Since then, Jack tried desperately to fill his time. He put more focus into his career, working tirelessly on papers and articles. On campus, the 'Four Sisters' of the Humanities department had each made it known that they were available any time, day or night, for 'after hour discussions.' Thus far he had resisted, but then wondered, what was the point?

So, for now, he kept going. Knowing he would probably never see her again, knowing deep down he wasn't good enough for her and never would be – the only thing he could think to do was row.


	37. Ashes to Ashes

_AN: An angsty R/J (with motivation from a great fanfic titled Master of Illusion)_**  
**

**Ashes to Ashes**

They find him, hands stained black, bleeding from a burn on his right arm, sifting violently through the ashes. The pile of soot is dark and stands starkly in the white gold sand that surrounds the quintet. Two birds circle over head, cawing loudly – their desperate cries the only sound breaking the silence.

He watches the material drift through his fingers, clutching at physical matter that refuses to comply to his wishes.

"You knew it would end this way."

The crouched blonde man appears not to hear the statement.

"Collect yourself, you are a king of the realm."

The man's shoulders relax suddenly as he fishes a singular scarlet star, charred on one side, from the small heap.

Clutching the insignificant trinket, he stands up and turns to face the four men. They say nothing, but each note the tear cutting through the hard plane of the man's sooty cheek. A swift breeze rises and sends the ashes scattering into the atmosphere.


	38. Caramia

_AN: Assassin!verse – some happy, distant future. And since Agent K was never given a nationality, I've just decided he's Italian. Short based on the love padlock tradition (which Hubs and I did recently)._

**Caramia**_  
_

The wedding had been nothing short of a stunning success. Although a small, private ceremony, given the relative wealth of the bride and groom, the cost of the event went well into the tens of thousands of euros and the party didn't end until the very small hours of the morning. And now, lounging in the honeymoon suite of the Hotel de Russie in Rome, the newly married couple sipped champagne and reflected on the events from the previous day.

"Who do you think will be next?"

"That's easy, Nicholas has lost it for that gorgeous Greek gal."

"Gorgeous?" A perfect blonde eyebrow went up.

Rolling his eyes, the groom kissed her bare shoulder and answered, "Gorgeous, but nowhere near as beautiful as my lovely wife. Which reminds me…"

Stark naked, the pale haired man slid off the bed and rummaged around in his monogrammed overnight bag.

Sitting up, the blonde asked, "What are you looking for? I'm fairly certain we used up everything last night."

"A one track mind with you, dear bride. No, I've got something special for you." He strode back to the large, rumpled bed and presented the young woman with an exquisitely decorated box.

Untying the ribbon and pulling off the lid, his former adversary shot him a confused look as she asked, "What are we going to do with this exactly?"

"When in Rome…"

Twenty minutes later, on a bridge overlooking the flowing Tiber, the blonde giggled in delight as they definitively shut the ornately inscribed padlock. Twirling the keys in his hand, her husband said, "Now, we toss these in the river."

"Remind me why?"

"In case our vows aren't enough, _caramia_, should there ever be a man who wants to take my place, he'll have to jump in and fish the keys out to prove his love."

Grasping his hand and looking into his dark grey eyes, she said, "There won't be another man."

_AN: That was 18 kinds of smuff._


	39. Hotel Bar

_Assassin!verse – follow up to Diwali._

_Who? A/Z_

**Hotel Bar**

She toys with the flute of champagne in front of her. She watches the bubbles rise up, idly remembering the chemical reaction which causes them to form. The location is not one she would've chosen, but this is a night for celebration.

Why, then, does she not feel like rejoicing?

Based on her work, a major crime syndicate has been taken down. She's retrieved heaps of information that will take federal agents months, or possibly years to get through.

This is her last assignment.

Her contracted work has come to an end, and with it, her contact with Zoisite.

There will be other work, no doubt, and the money she's put away over the past few months will provide a secure nest egg for whatever she chooses to do. She's smart and relatively young and, and as she finishes the glass of Veuve, contemplates getting into the field of medicine. She's always liked helping people.

At the hotel bar, crowded by some convention or another, she feels uncomfortable in the mix of strangers. Nodding to the bartender to fill her glass, she retreats to a small alcove near an ostentatious fireplace. Feeling silly for dressing up, she fusses with the blue satin dress, which in the store made her feel beautiful – the fabric rushing over her skin like water.

Against all hopes, she wants to believe Agent Zoisite will join her tonight. She received a missive late in the day to meet at this bar, to receive last instructions here, and then the remainder of her fee would be paid in full.

Her sapphire eyes check the entrants to the bar and her field skills (rusty, but still in effect), clock a familiar face.

Thoughts of fireworks – on the street – and in her room in India – flare in her memory.

A mistake.

One of the best nights in her life, but a mistake nonetheless.

"What are you doing here?" she asks as he appears by her side. She is wary. The timing is too perfect.

"I couldn't stay away."

Realization dawns, and she asks, "You knew then, and you didn't say anything?"

"I didn't want to compromise the assignment." He runs a hair through his blonde hair, causing the coif to stand on end.

"I…"

"That came out wrong."

In a haze of tears, Amy ducks out of the bar, running away. The young man notes she's left a pashmina behind and smiles to himself. Picking the finely woven cloth up, he settles her tab and walks out of the bar.

# # #

A knock on her door a few minutes later shouldn't surprise her.

"I know you're there."

Silence greets him.

"Please let me in, I can explain."

More silence.

"You forgot something."

Against all hopes, he hears the lock move and is delighted to see the door open a sliver.

"I was unprofessional. I went against protocol."

"And now? Are you back for a second helping? One last hurrah with the technical geek?"

"Will you just let me in to explain?"

"No."

"Fine. The reality is that after today, I knew there was a chance I would never see you again. I couldn't let that happen."

She sighs and cracks the door a bit further, then asks, "Why should I believe you?"

"I tried convincing myself that you couldn't fall in love with someone over protected e-mail. That I couldn't know you without having met you. That's why I went to India."

"And?"

"I was a coward. I thought if I told you, you wouldn't feel the same way."

More silence.

"I'm prepared to stay in this hall all night if that's what it takes."

The door swings open and Agent Zoisite steps forward, a large smile on his face.

_AN: WAFF for everyone, get your WAFF here!_


	40. Conversation

_AN: This is my ficathon entry 2011. It was my first time participating and was such a blast!_

_Who? V/K_

_**Conversation**  
_

_"I hadn't realized how much I'd been needing to meet someone I might be able to say everything to."_

_Talk Before Sleep, _Elizabeth Berg

I had more people in my life than any young woman could ask for. I had friends to laugh and celebrate with, courtiers constantly fluttering and flirting about, planetary leaders to debate the struggles of the universe, seamstresses who could create closets full of exquisite clothing, and wise teachers to learn from. I counted myself among the fortunate and lucky.

And yet, in the midst of my busy life, I was alone.

I was not afraid to speak, nor did I lack those who would listen. I was adept at languages and counted fluency in at least five. I could hear. Part of my training granted me the ability to observe both what was being said and what remained silent. I watched body language, picking up on small elements that others missed. I was not so naïve to believe that there were not others who wanted part of the power – like moths to a flame, they sought to get closer to her light.

I knew my mind. I understood my place in the universe. And yet, the deepest secrets of my heart were known to no one – not my princess, not her highness the Queen, not one of my senshi sisters. They wouldn't understand, couldn't know the depth of my devotion – the limits I would go to in the name of duty. I would gladly step in front of a sword, or slit a throat in her name. I would bring the end of the universe if it guaranteed her safety.

_Serenity._

I did not ask for this position – it was a gift given to me, part of my birthright and one I accepted with honor. Of all those in the universe, of all the other lives I could have lived, the duty was mine alone.

While debates raged on the Moon above, the sole heir to the kingdom sought refuge and solace in a place no one ever thought to look for her.

Smarter than most gave her credit for, it took me a few occasions to understand where Serenity was slipping away to. Still too young to fully realize her powers, she was only able to summon the energy to visit the closest planet, Earth, when the moon waxed full. Waiting for her to sneak off a lunar cycle later, I followed her to the gardens. Too far away to stop her, I watched my princess steal away in a beam of moonlight.

Knowing I needed to sound alarms, I took a step back towards the palace and stopped suddenly.

Not wanting to alert her mother, not wanting to admit my own failure, I ground my heels into the ground and clenched a fist. There were protocols I had personally put in place – procedures I was required to follow. How could I get to her? Withdrawing the Sword of the Moon, I closed my eyes tightly and knelt on the ground, praying for the ability to transport to protect my princess.

How they found each other on the bright blue planet, I cannot know. Perhaps it was fate.

One gaze at their interlocked embrace told me everything I needed to know.

I moved to interrupt them when his voice distracted me.

Of all that I had heard about Terrans, of all I had read and determined from my studies, nothing could prepare me for how his accented voice would impact me.

A guardian like myself – that much was apparent.

A sword like my own.

Our uniforms different in every way.

He spoke three words, 'They are safe.'

In that shortest of sentences, I knew he understood.

In front of me was everything I was. We stood silently, studying each other. Across the distance, his silver eyes turned sad. It took a moment, but I knew. As lucky as Serenity was to find her soul mate, we would never have the same destiny. We could never sacrifice ourselves and our duty to something as fleeting as love.

Crossing the distance to join him, I took his gloved hand and said, 'Come, let us talk.'


	41. A djinni in a bottle

**A djinni in a Bottle.**

Kunzite looked at the note again and his brow creased in concentration.

_"To keep you company on the long nights in the desert..."_

The package (along with the note, in the undeniable handwriting of Prince Endymion) had arrived with the most recent delivery of goods, supplies and mail from the Palace. Kunzite had been posted to the Middle Eastern region of the kingdom and had no issues with his task. Guarding the ever sliding sands was a post he felt comfortable with. The palace, with its court intrigues and dramas, were of little to no interest to him. Let Jadeite work his charms and protect their Prince in his way among the various factions, Kunzite was happiest being physically in the line of danger. With the portal to other parts of the galaxy, the Middle East was the most exposed territory of the Terran realm.

The knowledge that his liege trusted him with this duty was one he did not take lightly. Why then, would Endymion send him sort of trinket? Kunzite did not want for anything material. He commanded the men posted in the barracks, he trained falcons and raced Arabians, there was nothing further he required.

Deciding to inspect the gift when he was alone in his tent, Kunzite placed another bit of fuel to the brazier and went to unwrap the package. Inside was a curious looking object. Done in jewel tones of deeply polished gold, decorated with sparkling aquamarine jewels and tied with a bright orange ribbon, Kunzite had to wonder if his Prince had spent too long in court. Kunzite had no interest in some sort of frippery to make his desk look pretty. Was it a weapon? Some sort of object of magic powers?

And still…there was a bit of mystery. Why would Endy include the note? How could this artifact keep him company?

Kunzite looked again at the object. It appeared to be some sort of vase or bottle, but it was stoppered. He had no idea why it was so ornately decorated. If it was filled with some sort of alcohol or other spirit, and he was just to consume it, why did the creator go to great lengths to add so many embellishments?

The surface was slightly opaque and without giving it much thought, he took the edge of his great cape and rubbed the item to get a clearer view of what was inside. Seemingly out of nowhere a loud noise and puff of smoke shocked him into action. Drawing his sword he looked around the room. What devilry was this? Had someone forged Endymion's handwriting? Was he under some sort of magical threat?

Using his cape to clear the air, he asked, "Who goes there?"

When the smoke cleared, he was surprised to find a shapely young woman standing in front of him. Somehow, she complemented the colors of the glass device she must have come from. A vision in garments of clinging gold, sheer cobalt netting half covered her face, revealing nothing but a large set of kohl lined crystal blue eyes. Having not seen a woman in nearly six months, Kunzite had trouble believing if he had not conjured this image in his head.

Although his hand was on his sword, he lowered the weapon and asked, "Who are you?"

She bowed deeply, giving him an eyeful of generous cleavage, and replied, "Mina. I am _djinni _from the planet Venus, and a gift to his royal highness, Endymion. Are you he?"

"No."

A troubled frown filled her pretty face, and she said, "But he is to be my new master. I was sent to please him."

Kunzite began grumbling to himself, cursing his Prince and the man's terrible sense of humor. Trying his best to explain himself, Kunzite said, "You are not at the capital and Endymion is not here. He sent you to me."

She clapped her hands together and said in a delighted tone, "Then you are my new master?"

"I am…" Kunzite sat down at his desk and placed his head in his hands, muttering, "I'm going to kill him."

_AN: 'Djinni' is the female version of the Arabic 'djinn' and where we get the word genie from._


	42. Burlesque

_AN: Modern Cowboy!verse - this is a follow up to the 'Heartache's on Me' scene from awhile ago._

**Burlesque Show**

"Best job ever!"

"Erm."

"Seriously, what did you think?"

Keith's response is to take a long drink of the Budweiser he has in hand.

"Come on now, don't be shy!" All glitter and fish nets, Mina plucks the long neck from him and finishes the bottle, then passes him the empty container.

Gesturing with the bottle, he says, "I don't know anything about this stuff. You weren't wearing a lot."

"It's burlesque, what did you expect?"

"And who was that guy?" His voice takes a gruff tone. They are on easy territory here. Fighting is one the fundamental qualities of their strange relationship. After inviting her over the night they met, Keith ended up deciding Mina from Michigan wouldn't be so bad to have around. What has developed is a completely dysfunctional, sexually charged environment that he is sometimes afraid to go home to. She's turned his life upside down - from having to witness her thongs drying in the bathroom in the morning to the stray white kitten she adopted, his life is completely different to what it had been just a short time ago.

"Who, Jerry? I've told you a million times he's gay."

Keith realizes this fact, but can't believe any person – gay or straight, wouldn't have a reaction to Mina's performance. Hell, if he had been on stage... Shifting uncomfortably in his suddenly too tight jeans, he says, "So, this is really going to be your job?"

"Why? Don't you think I'm good at it?"

"Yeah, you're fine."

"Try not to sound too excited."

"I won't."

They look at the other patrons of the bar for moment, standing awkwardly. She says quietly, "Thanks for coming, by the way. I don't know too many people in town..."

Scuffing a boot on the floor, he asks, "Need a ride back to our place?"

"I've got another show at 11."

"Oh."

"You don't approve, do you?"

"It's your life." When it came down to it, Keith considered himself a relatively forward thinking dude. Still, he thought he might have to draw the line at having to watch his roommate take off the majority of her clothes while others watched.

"Well, this girl from Detroit doesn't have a lot of options when it comes to steady employment. Anyway, I thought you'd be happy. I owe you tons of money and at least two months rent."

"You're having a hard time. It happens to everyone. I've told you not to be stressed about it."

Rising on her 3 inch stilettos, she kisses his cheek and says, "You are so understanding. Hey! Want me to introduce you to some of the other girls in the group?"

"No thanks."

Blinking her eyes slowly, she asks innocently, "You want me to introduce you to Jerry?"

"No, I do not want you to introduce me to Jerry. Anyway, I'm going to jet. Try not to be too loud when you come home tonight, okay?"

"Don't worry, I will," she sticks her tongue out at him. "Oh, and can you feed Artie? I was so excited when I was leaving I forgot to give him some kibble."

"As you wish." He ducks out of the club and walks to his truck, wondering how it might be possible to un-complicate his life.


	43. Red Boots

_AN: Next chapter for modern!cowboys. Yes, it's a fast moving storyline._

**Red Boots**

In her bridal white, looking at her reflection, Mina thought back. Two years ago she had made one of the biggest mistakes of her life. What she thought of as spontaneous, that is, jumping in a car with a boyfriend of a few months with the intent of going to Vegas to get married, had quickly dissolved into a nearly terrible commitment. Fortunately, her error had led to the best thing that had ever happened in her young and chaotic life.

Keith.

The bouncer had taken her in and set her straight. Sure, they had their ups and downs and had wasted months dancing around the inevitable, but she wouldn't have it any other way. She knew they fought as good as they fucked, that Keith stirred a passion in her she had never believed possible. With him, she had purpose. With him, she was not a washed up high school drop out from Detroit. With him, she had potential.

There was a knock.

Mina was speechless as she opened the door and saw her groom standing in front of her, utterly handsome in his country finery. In his hands he held a large box. Shyly, Mina motioned him in, and he said, "I know I'm not supposed to see you, but we've never been much for tradition."

"No, we certainly haven't."

"I wanted to get you something."

Mina noted the box was too big to hold jewelry and took what was being offered to her. In her experience, Keith didn't have a great track record with remembering anniversaries or giving big showy gifts, but she knew these things didn't matter. It was in the million small details he showed he loved her every day. Removing the lid of the box, she saw a perfect pair of red cowboy boots. He looked at her sheepishly and said, "I thought you could wear them at the reception."

The pair had been working hard on their line dancing lessons, and Mina was touched by the gesture. She answered, "I'll do no such thing! I'm getting married in these boots!"


	44. Tough

_AN: More in the M/K modern cowboy!verse. M rating. If you don't like lemons, don't read ahead.  
_

**Tough**

_"I wanted lace, I wanted pearls  
To be a princess like the other girls  
But life came hard to my front door  
And I grew up tryin' to even up the score._

_Tough; I ain't never been nothin' but tough._  
_All my edges have always been rough_  
_But Jesus loves me anyway; oh, back off_  
_There ain't nothin' wrong with a woman who got a little backbone_  
_Just wait till you taste her kind of love._

_You want a shy little thing_  
_A pretty little high-heeled thing_  
_You're gonna cry if I don't polish up_  
_Tough._

_The way I see it, the hand of Fate_  
_Did me a favor with the cards he dealt my way_  
_Found out fast life is a game_  
_You're out real quick if you don't know how to play."_

- **_Tough, Kellie Pickler_**

Mina has reached her absolute and final limit. The week before, she had rather stupidly convinced none other than her too hot to be real roommate to participate in a charity event. The club where she performed her burlesque show was raising money for Toys for Tots in the form of a date auction and Mina had more or less bullied Keith into showing up by signing him up and asking if he would like be included later.

Her plan had been to hope no one bought him, then slip in a few bucks to 'buy him' and voila they would have an excuse for a date. And then… Well, now she would never know. Never know if she finally had the courage to tell him how she really felt. That ever since arriving to Serenity Lake she couldn't imagine life without him. That she had put off looking for another place to live because she really enjoyed their cluttered apartment above the ice cream parlor and was fairly certain her life would fall apart without it…and him.

Everything was supposed to go according to her very simple plan.

Unfortunately, she hadn't planned on Jerry taking Keith's shirt off.

She quite clearly remembered the rough flannel work shirt getting ripped from her roommate's body. Certainly, she had peeked a few times in his coming and going from the shower, but those had been private moments. Once Keith's well toned physique had been shared with the rest of the female population of Serenity Lake, Mina hadn't had a chance. Stupid Beatrice Richardson and her buckets of money had won Keith before Mina's borrowed $20 even had a chance.

Tonight is the evening of Beatrice and Keith's date. Unable to see her plan continue to fail, Mina had grabbed her pink cowboy hat and made up some excuse to get out of the apartment before her roommate got ready. Citing 'Christmas shopping for Artie,' she had ducked out of the apartment and made her way to the bar where they had first met, muttering as she entered the darkened room, "No way he's going to bring her refined ass here."

There wasn't much in the way of fine dining choices in town, but Mina knew Beatrice wouldn't be caught dead in the smoky bar and Keith was too much of a gentleman to take her there.

An empty stomach, several shots of whiskey and an inspired version of 'Santa Baby' later, Mina squints through her drunken haze and sees Keith and his usual disapproving stare walking towards her. Fortunately, at that exact moment, 'I Fall to Pieces' by the incomparable Patsy Cline comes on the dilapidated jukebox rusting in the corner. Mina doesn't think, instead she prances up to her roommate, takes his hand and leads him to the crowded dance floor.

With the world spinning around her, Mina feels simultaneously surprised and grounded when Keith places his large hands on her waist. They sway gently in place and as she hums the melody, singing lyrics when she knows them (and even then, getting most of them wrong), Mina wonders what will happen when the song ends.

Unfortunately, as the strains of the music lapse into the next song, there is no romantic dip or twirl, merely the command, "I'm taking you home."

"You're not the boss of me."

"Someone clearly needs to be."

"And you're that guy?" Made confident by Jack Daniels and not much else, Mina figures she has nothing to lose.

"I'm not going to answer that."

Realizing she has reached her limit, Mina follows Keith outside, suddenly sobered by the crisp winter air. Ever the gentleman, he opens the door to his truck and she clambers inside. Fiddling with heater, she cranks it to full blast.

"Must you?"

"I'm cold."

"Maybe you should've thought of that before leaving the house wearing a mini skirt in December."

In response, Mina sulks. However, as she watched the familiar landmarks pass, she takes heart in realizing Keith is here with her and not Beatrice. As her mouth usually gets the better of her, Mina crosses her arms, turns down the Radiohead album that seems to always be in the car, and asks, "Where's your date?"

"None of your business."

"Why not?"

"Because it isn't."

"Beatrice doesn't put out on the first date?"

"Still none of your business."

"Hmph."

Mina purposely slams all the doors she could on the way into the house and goes straight to the kitchen, pulling the bottle of vodka from the freezer. Pouring herself a shot, she downs the bracing liquid and looks defiantly at Keith. Raising a delicate blonde eyebrow, she asks, "Care for some?"

"Stop acting like a child."

"Why? Why shouldn't I? Who says you have to have everything figured out when you're 23?""

"Okay, fine, then stop acting like an out of control drunk." In the small galley kitchen, he maneuvers around her and pulls out a glass, filling it with water and hands it to Mina. "Drink this instead. You'll feel better."

Dutifully, she follows his instruction. After a not so delicate burp, she says, "I'm sorry."

"Why? For having me to come get you again?"

"No."

"Then what for?"

"It should've been me on the date tonight." And there, the words were out before she can do anything about it.

Keith looks at her, cold steel, and says, "Explain."

"I… It should've been me. _I_ was supposed to buy you. You were supposed to take _me_ on a date."

After a few seconds longer than necessary, Keith responds with a simple, "Hmm."

"**_THAT'S_** your response? Forget I said anything!" Before he can react, Mina stumbles towards her room and slams another door.

Keith remains in the kitchen, wondering what the fuck he should do. He calmly grabs the glass she drank from and pours the reminder of the water Mina didn't drink down the sink. Not particularly thinking though his actions, he brings the glass to his lips…touching the cold surface to his own mouth. Shaking his head, he places the container down and walks to her door. Hearing her crying inside, he feels worse than he ever thought imaginable. Worse than when Artie went missing for a few days. Worse still than when Mina had come down with an unexpected case of chicken pox. With his hand on the door, he pauses, constricted by his own feelings.

_This is wrong…_

Fueled by alcohol, it's not how he pictured their first time or even how they would get together. And yet, he feels an overwhelming need to run into the room and comfort her.

Deciding it's best to give her space, he retreats to his own room and attempts to settle into a restless sleep. As the hours pass, it's clear he will not be getting any rest or relaxation. Clad in his flannel pajama pants and nothing else, he gently raps at her door – both hoping and denying he wants an answer. Practically since she's moved in, he's tortured himself imaging what she sleeps in… When there is no response, he hesitates another moment, then opens the door and walks in. Blonde hair strewn across the pillowcase, she's cuddled into a tight ball under the covers. He'll just have to figure out what she's wearing another time. He moves to walk away.

He can't leave.

Although he recognizes he isn't thinking clearly, he needs to apologize in some way and in some misguided attempt to silence his raging hormones lies down on the bed next to her. With her body nestled under the heavy duvet, it's not like they're really even sharing a bed...or at least that's what he tells himself. Truthfully, the full size mattress is not made for someone of his size and another person to lie without touching. And, as Mina settles against him, Keith's eyelids grow heavy and his intention to return to his own room fades away.

As the first rays of pale winter light filter into the room, Keith awakes a few hours later. He could leave and Mina would never know he was here, but that feels wrong. Somewhere in the night, they've both ended up under the blankets and he doesn't want to move. Instead he pulls her tight against him and heart thundering in his chest, says, "Good morning."

Mina blinks her long lashes for a moment and then looks at Keith strangely. He watches as she hesitates, pulls back and seeing her worn dressing gown, vaults out of bed and wraps it around herself. Setting herself down on a worn settee scattered with abandoned clothes a safe distance away, she asks, "Why are you here? What happened last night?"

"I didn't… We didn't…"

"What are you trying to say exactly? Did you want to 'do' something? Because as I recall, you made it fairly clear, you most certainly did NOT."

"Damnit, Mina, what did you mean last night? Why was I supposed to take you on a date?"

"Because…" her voice trails away as she fidgets with the tie of her robe.

"Because we're supposed to be together," he finishes her sentence.

Rather a woman of actions than words, she calmly walks back to the bed, strips back the duvet, straddles her smaller body over his, crosses her arms and asks, "What did you say?"

Keith shifts uncomfortably. Having woken up with a fierce case of morning wood, and now with Mina and the absolute barest amount of fabric between them, he is having a difficult time thinking, let alone putting a sentence together. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he answers, "You and me. Why have we been fighting it so long?"

"Do you really mean that?"

Instead of responding immediately, his hand, rather of its own accord, begins to trace lazy circles on Mina's tanned left thigh. Pleased she hasn't worn anything more than what he now recognized as a missing pair of his favorite boxer shorts and a black tank top, he waits for her to stop him, to slap his hand away. In a strange version of 'are you nervous,' his fingers reached further and further closer to a specific heat he is interested in exploring. Trying to find his voice, he says, "You have to say something or I'm not going to stop…"

In response, she draws a line across her mouth with her fingers and pantomimes throwing away a key. Her action is all the encouragement Keith needs. Flipping her over, he is on top of her and slipping his tongue into her mouth in the span of a few seconds. Although he has pictured the moment a million times over, nothing can stop the rush. He planned to take his time, to cherish her, but before he realizes what is happening, they are both naked and she is slipping a hand into her bedside drawer. Without breaking contact, she has ripped open the condom package and sheathes his dick in latex. As her hand moves up and down, she grins impishly and, tongue licking her lips, says, "Big boy."

Groaning, he can do nothing but guide himself into her. She's as tight and hot and wet as he dreamed. This is how he wants to wake up every morning. He can die happy now. While he's slept with plenty of women in the past, he's never felt such a connection before. Realizing this is actually happening and not some extended daydream, he focuses on his beautiful partner. Whether or not she'll be this quick to orgasm every time, he doesn't particularly care - he's more interested in her response to his touch and what her caress does to him.

He comes, shaking and heated in the cold room. He feels alive. He feels invincible.

Extracting himself from their tangle of limbs, he attempts to get his breathing under control and assess what the hell has just happened. Working up his confidence, he looks over at his roommate. Her eyes are closed, her cheeks are flushed, and she is smiling. Without opening her eyes, she says, "See something you like?"

Nibbling his lips along her upper arm, he gazes down at her naked body. What had been a blur now slides into perfect focus. She opens one eye and asks, "And have you been a good boy this year? Christmas is less than a week away."

"I must have been - I just got everything I ever wished for."


	45. Crash Landing

**Crash Landing** (N/L - Assassin!verse)

"So, what do you propose we do now?" Leda asks, ripping off what's left of her 'flight hostess' outfit. Their assignment has been a success. While perhaps not as perfectly executed as the plans were supposed to go, given all they were up against, she's pleased with the outcome - the world, ever unassuming, is safe again.

"I think there's only one thing we can do."

"Which is?"

"Get married."

Of all the answers she expected to hear from Nicholas Worthington's highly proper (although, at times rather improper) mouth, this is among the last. She begins to speak and then seals her lips against each other, then finally says, "But..."

"But what?"

"Your parents, for one."

"With all due respect, they can go to hell."

"Are you sure you don't want to wait? To think about it? To do the coat with tails and have the Vicar or whoever you crazy Brits have marry us?"

"So you_ do_ want to get married?"

She looks at the downed wreckage of their plane and says, "Yes."

"Then why not here and now? We're already in Vegas."

"Technically, you're right." The bright lights of the city shine below. Green eyes glittering with unshed tears, she gazes at the man in front of her and asks, "You're sure?"

Sweeping her off her red heels, he answers, "Absolutely."


	46. Hallelujah

_**AN: Bit of an Assassin!verse prequel. M for language. Suggestions for a title welcome.**  
_

_"She tied you to a kitchen chair  
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair  
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah."_

_- **Hallelujah **(am enjoying the Jeff Buckley version of this song)_

Agent M walked around the young man, pitying both herself and him. Not him necessarily, but rather, the decisions he had made. She was disappointed in herself because she had broken the most important rule in their profession – never get attached.

"I did have you fooled, didn't?" He coughed, then spat blood and an incisor onto the dirty floor.

Her alleged 'partner' was none other than Phantom Ace, a double agent who had actually been working for the Nemesis syndicate. Recruited heavily, she had been new to the Lunar organization when she'd been assigned to the man she knew as Adonis. They had shared information, then a bed. It hadn't occurred to her that he'd even have time to have allegiance to another outfit. And yet, when she looked back over their partnership, she saw the gaps – the texts at strange hours, the calls on the balcony, the reluctance to go after the enemy.

Still, she had pride and wasn't about to let him feel superior, not even in the last few moments of his life.

"Not in the slightest," she replied, but the words felt bitter on her tongue.

"You can tell yourself that, but you and I both know the truth."

"What of it? You're going to die. Our...my superiors will see this as a positive and put me forward for advancement. I should be thanking you."

"Maybe they will, but let me tell you one thing..." He paused and narrowed his eyes, continuing, "I know your future."

"Do you?" She affected a bored tone in response.

"You're doomed to a life of fighting."

"What do you mean?"

"I know the girl I fucked. She wants love. She wants children and a husband and a house. Lie to yourself all you want."

"And I can't have any of those things?"

"Look around you."

Blue eyes wide, she takes in their surroundings - the spartan, uncomfortable furniture. Living without hot showers and a working kitchen. The months of not speaking to friends and family. Raising her Smith and Wesson, she takes a deep breath, levels the weapon at him and takes aim. Without a word, she fires off a shot directly at his heart. Although she's ended his life, in death he will not be made to suffer.

As his body falls to the ground, she wipes a stray tear from her eye as she realizes the horrible truth he's spoken. Whispering, she says, "Damn you."


	47. Bad Moon

AN: SilMil…ish?

_"I see the bad moon arisin'  
I see trouble on the way  
I see earthquakes and lightnin'  
I see bad times today_

_Don't go around tonight_  
_Well, it's bound to take your life_  
_There's a bad moon on the rise_

_I hear hurricanes ablowin'_  
_I know the end is comin' soon_  
_I fear rivers overflowin'_  
_I hear the voice of rage and ruin_

_Don't go around tonight_  
_Well, it's bound to take your life_  
_There's a bad moon on the rise."_

**- CCR, Bad Moon (oh yeah – I find inspiration everywhere!)**

Mortal men look to the pitch black sky and hurry towards shelter – this is not a night to be outside, exposed to the elements. On this evening, only the four citadels of the realm are so bold as to invite tragedy into their lives. From sundown until sunrise many perilous hours from now, these four men are the protectors of Earth, sworn to hold vigil against the blood red satellite looming in the sky about. To keep the world safe, they must perform a horrible task – offerings, four virgin women to the mighty scarlet moon, sacrificed at midnight.

An elaborate ceremony for the changing of the old guard took place near Mid-Winters Eve – legends passed into the night, with four young men – strong, virile, brave – chosen to replace the former icons and stand in their place for the next twenty years.

Tonight, after a day of silent meditation and purifying themselves through fasting and bathing rituals, they don long, dark cloaks, hoods pulled over their faces.

The women, chosen at random from across the kingdom, are clothed in all pristine white and await their sad fates, bound to four ancient trees in the forest. Nothing grows in the circle. It as if the earth knows this terrible place and refuses to take part in the actions. A pile of kindling sits aside, awaiting a spark.

The youngest, a blonde man with nothing but a downy beard on his chin, wavers as he holds the sharpened blade against a young woman's throat. Her hair, short with a bluish tint, flutters slightly in the breeze – matching the trembling weapon. She remains motionless. The man looks to his left, to the oldest of their group, seeking approval or direction.

With silver hair turned nearly ginger in the red light, the broad shouldered man makes eye contact with the tribute in front of him. Her skin is like porcelain, but her blue eyes are defiant, radiant with life. He has stood down armies. He has battled generals. He has murdered and slain and burned lands. He finds himself struck down by her gaze in an instant.

"Hold," he tells his comrades.

An unnatural wind surrounds them - throwing back the hoods of their cloaks and revealing their faces - stunned at the turn of events. At the same time fog infiltrates the space, effectively cutting the quartet and the women from the rest of the world. The moon turns swiftly from red to silver, bathing all in an ethereal light.

An apparition appears in front of them, a delicate form clothed in silver, a tall scepter held tight in her left hand.

"You have spared them, why?"

"It is not their time."

"What will you tell the others? They will want to know there has been blood."

"We will tell them the goddess has been appeased." Finding it uncomfortable to be standing in this woman's presence, the silver haired man kneels and the others follow suit.

"And the bodies? What of the pyre? Of the ashes required for the remainder of this horrific tradition?"

"We..."

"Daughters sacrificed to my evil sister year after year! These four are special - their survival marks a shift. I have waited for you - for them." The men remain motionless. The woman bends her scepter and a brilliant light fills the space, the four women disappear in an instant. As the woman fades from view, she looks to the sky and nods at the Moon and announces, "They are safe. Keep an eye on the stars - they will return. Until then, prepare yourselves."

With nothing remaining, the tall man walks to the branches and sets them alight. The four silently watch the flames in the dark.


	48. Notes

_AN: This would be loosely inspired by another author's 'verse._

_Who? A/Z (modern)_

**Notes**

The boy with the crazy blonde hair sat across the table from her. His entire demeanor threatened to disturb her pristine environment. Hers was a special place in the school's library – found after weeks of searching at her new high school. The afternoon light filtered in just so, the wooden table was the correct height and large enough to accommodate her books, laptop, index cards, highlighters and pens. In short, for Amy to maintain her intended ranking in the class, she highly valued this space. There was no room for visitors or distractions.

"Hey there."

Looking over her glasses, she gave him a reprimanding look and then returned her focus to the biology homework in front of her.

"Don't talk much, do you?"

Amy lifted a delicate eyebrow and raised her chin in the direction of the sign which read plainly 'Quiet Corner – no cell phones, no talking.'

"I bet you put that sign up yourself."

Amy continued to highlight a passage on mitosis and willed the blush she felt coming on to stop. He was just a boy - albeit a potentially cute young man, but not worthy of embarrassing pink cheeks. Continuing to look down and redoubling her efforts to look studious, she was surprised when a hastily scribbled note came across her line of vision: _My name is Zach. What's yours?_

Hoping he would take the hint and go away, Amy quickly scribbled her name and didn't bother respond with a query of her own.

_I'm a junior, what year are you?_

Unable to stop herself, she wrote back, _Skipped third grade, transferred in, a junior like you._

"So that's why I haven't seen you in the junior parking lot!"

She raised her head and made eye contact with him, then put a finger to her lips and responded, "Shh!"

"Fine," he grumbled, "We'll do things your way."

_What are you doing Sunday night?_

She paused, and chewed on the end of her pen. Why did he ask about Sunday? Why not Friday? Or Saturday, the traditional date night? Was he only here for some help with his studies? As quickly as she had been flattered by the attention, she now wished it was over. Her curiosity piqued, she wrote, _Why?_

_Give me your number and I'll tell you why._

Biology becoming significantly less interesting, she smiled in spite of herself and after considering his request, finally wrote down her cell phone number. He took the paper back and apparently happy with her response, began drafting a lengthy response, complete with crossing sections out and looking to the ceiling for inspiration. Reading the same definition in her textbook at least three times, she grew impatient and was elated when the note came back. She began reading the sloppy handwriting:

_ Of course I want to see you before Sunday, but I've got a Cross Country meet and won't be back until then. I know you're new to town, so I'd like to show you some of the great things around. Since I could never tell you out loud, I think you're pretty and smart and if you say no I will take off my shirt, begin singing loudly and cause everyone in the library to look over here. What do you say? Go out with me?_

Her cheeks rosy, Amy looked up and said, "I'd love to."


	49. Just Dance

_AU: Assasins!verse… Let's just pretend Captain Nicholas Worthington and dear Lena existed in WWII, m'kay? _

**Just Dance**

It had been a bitter winter. He couldn't remember the last time he had a warm meal or shower. He had lost men – good men. Men who would never have a chance to see a future. Their faces haunted and tortured his dreams. When some junior member of his staff told him about a dance happening that evening, he could barely summon the strength to care. What was the point of music and fancy steps when everyone was just going to be killed?

Crashing on his bunk, he rifled through the mail which had piled up in his absence. Pulling out the telegram marked not only, 'Confidential' but also, 'Urgent,' he ripped it open and began reading his instructions. The coded message seemed deceptively easy. He needed to intercept a Greek agent who was local for the next two weeks. She had pertinent information for Italian positioning.

Sighing, he decided the dance might be a good idea – and the only chance he would have of interacting socially with the opposite sex for the next few months. No doubt this 'Leda Theodorakis' was in her late forties and had a mustache. Showering, he pulled out his dress uniform and polished off his shoes.

"He goes nothing," he said to the empty room.

Walking through the late March chill, he breathed in deeply – spring was coming. Ducking into the dimly lit tent, he went to the bar. Knowing they wouldn't have much of a selection, he longed for the stocks of finely aged whiskey at his estate – far away from here. Knocking back a shot of something that made his eyes water, when his vision cleared he looked to the dance floor and sighted a particularly lovely woman. Legs for days, a radiant smile…now, why couldn't that be Leda? he wondered. Local talent like hers was lost in the remote village.

Sensing her dance partner had less than a clue of what he was doing, Nicholas waited until the song ended and walked up to her. Bowing slightly, he took her hand and said, "Captain Nicholas Worthington, at your service.'

"My service?" Her slightly accented voice asked.

"Yes, ma'am." Barely recognizing his reaction, he realized he was grinning.

The sounds of the song – a fast paced Benny Goodman tune – stopped further conversation and by the end they were both breathing heavily. He dipped her low and didn't let go of her hand as he pulled her off the dance floor – taking her outside, where the stars twinkled overheard.

"Where have you been all my life?" he asked.

"Think a line like is going to work on a girl like me?"

"Had to give it a try."

"Got a light? Smokes are hard to come by these days." She licked her red lips as she asked the question and Nicholas had to wonder about her particular word choices.

He produced a pack and said, "Rationing and all, mind if we share?"

"Not at all."

They silently shared the cigarette. He asked, "Didn't get your name, sweetheart."

"Didn't tell you, Captain Worthington."

The way she said his name put him on alert and feeling a bit daft, he asked, "Leda?"

"Wondered how long it would take you to figure that one out. You British lads need to work on your intelligence…maybe that's why things ain't so swell out there."

Cursing his luck, that he would be instantly attracted to the one woman in all of Europe he shouldn't get involved with, he stood up sharply, saluted and said, "Captain Nicholas Worthington, reporting."

Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "That's how it's going to be, huh?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Her green gaze held his a bit longer and she said, "Your choice – now show me back to your excuse for a room and let's get started."


	50. Bang Bang

_AN: Violence ahead.  
_

_**Bang Bang**  
_

_Like a bitch out of order  
Like a bat out of hell  
Like a fish out of water  
I'm scared, can't you tell?  
Bang Bang  
Bang Bang._

_I thought you were good_  
_But you painted me bad_  
_Compared to the others_  
_you're the best thing I had_  
_Bang Bang, shot you dead_  
_Bang Bang, shot you dead._

_I thought it was you_  
_And I loved you the most_  
_But I was just keeping_  
_My enemies close._

_I made a decision, I would never look back_  
_So how did you end up with all my jack?_  
_Bang Bang, shot you dead_  
_Bang Bang, shot you dead (in the head)._

_And then I discovered_  
_It couldn't get worse_  
_You were building my coffin_  
_You were driving my hearse._

_Bang Bang, shot you dead, shot my lover in the head,_  
_Now my lover is dead, and I have no regrets_  
_He deserved it._

_And I'm going straight to hell_  
_And I've got a lot of friends there_  
_And if I see that bitch in hell_  
_I'm gonna shoot him in the head again_  
_Cause I wanna see him die_  
_Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and Over._

_**- Gang Bang, Madonna, MDNA**_

The alliance between the Black Diamond gang and the Principessa syndicate of Neo Tokyo was a tentative one at best. In a city where royalty and the privileged lived in a completely different world than the rest of the population, men and women fought and fucked to stay on top in the underworld. With whispered allegiances to the crown, the Prinicpessa were led by a fierce young woman. As few had seen her - the rumors were many. She carried a sword and dispensed her own brutal brand of justice with it. A red eye patch covered her left eye as an accident in her early years of weapons training had rendered the organ useless. As the strength of her organization increased, so did the rumors. She was secretly a member of the royal household - a bastard daughter kicked out into the streets. She was an actual princess, bored and weary of court intrigues. She was an angel. She was the devil. She didn't exist at all. A few facts were known - in a landscape of men, her officers were all women, similar in age to her own. She did not give away trust. To be falsely loyal in her presence was to demand death.

Whatever her interests might be, her plan was simple – to take down the Four Kings, the strongest, most ruthless gang in the sprawling metropolis.

Unlike many of the other yakuza, gangsters and mobs, the Principessa were a relative newcomer to the seedy landscape of Neo Tokyo. In less than a decade they had risen to one of the strongest. Using their gender as a weapon, the Principessa slowly infiltrated and gained allegiance from all of the brothels in town. By offering protection from those that would do the prostitutes wrong, they heard the exclusive whispers, had evidence to blackmail almost every city official, and advantages over nearly anyone else in the city's underworld. Unlike the men, they did not quarrel or fight over turf or territory, they were only interested in money, prestige and influence. When whispers began circulating that the Principessa, a group who had long stood alone had allied with the dangerous Black Diamonds, other gangs began to get nervous and sought coalitions of their own. While the Principessa continued to remain out of the picture, the Black Diamonds, supplied with precious insider information began making bigger and stronger moves against the Four Kings.

"What's wrong?"

"Do you ever wish we could just leave this place?"

"And where would we go? Neither of us is anything close to respectable." The lovely blonde woman gave a throaty laugh.

"You wouldn't do it?"

"What are you asking?"

"For love?"

"Love is a very dangerous game – especially in my profession."

"Let's say I had a lot of money."

"Darling, we both know you do. You wouldn't be able to afford me if you didn't."

He sat up, and in the moonlight she felt her heart stutter. He went to the window of her boudoir and looked out into the night, down at the dirty and squalid streets below. Sighing, he said quietly, "Sometimes I wish we had been born in a different time."

She didn't bother answering, knowing, deep down, she felt the same way. In an alternate time, situations might have worked differently. When the silver haired man had come to the club, she had spotted him from the backroom – watching his every movement on the monitors. He was there for an evening of entertainment and although she couldn't be certain, believed he was one of the highest ranking members of the Four Kings. This was the opportunity she had been waiting months for.

"Let me," the girl with raven tresses said, making her claim. "I'll make him scream."

Kissing her friend's cheek, the blonde whispered, "There will be a chance for you yet, sweetling. Have patience. Your fiery temper would be wasted on him."

"Which time is that?" she asked, forcing herself to pay attention, knowing that dwelling on the past would lead to nothing she could afford.

"Any other."

"Let us stop wishing for things that can never be. Will you see me again this week?"

"Perhaps."

"Why not? I miss you when you're away," she purred in response, slinking up behind him and pressing her naked breasts against his bare back.

"Some business needs sorting."

He was usually very careful when it came to discussing his role in the organization, but the information she had gleaned had always been worth it.

"I love it when you talk that way."

"How?" He turned and tucked his arms around her, pulling her flush against the hard planes of his body.

"Dangerously."

He lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, "Want to hear more?"

She forced a giggle and nodded.

"The reign of the princesses is coming to an end in Neo Tokyo."

Her heart beat very hard in her chest. Forcing a neutral voice, she asked, "Where?"

"They got in bed with the wrong men. The Black Diamonds have sold them out. We're just going to help things along." He ran his tongue around her earlobe, causing goosebumps. "Now, I'm done talking."

Forcing her back on the bed, she tried to separate herself from what was happening to her body, but like every time with him, he demanded her full concentration.

"I'm done talking." Her bloodied sword was cast aside, a stillettoed heel on his neck and a gun pointed at his head. Tears mingled with her sweat. Even though they had known the attack was coming, they hadn't counted on the numbers and ferocity of the Four Kings. Her closest generals lay dead in the warehouse.

"This whole time?"

"You seem surprised."

"You played the part well."

Although it was meant to be superficial, the cut hurt more than she preferred.

He coughed and spat blood aside. "Would you have ever considered leaving it all behind?"

Images of her friends passed through her head. She would have left behind the money, the power, but she could never have left their sides. "No. Now, as mentioned, we're done talking."

Bang bang.


	51. On the Fence

_AN: Assasins! For the sake of an ever evolving timeline, let's say this is after the initial meeting (Agent K walks in to see Agent M has him in her sights). Additionally, this was inspired by an image of M. Fassbender, who I've mentally cast in this role. If you're on LJ, you might have seen it.  
_

_Who? M/K_

**On the Fence.**

Knowing she has well and truly captured him, he mentally curses himself. When asked by HQ if he needed backup, he denied the request, falsely thinking the blonde would be an easy target. Not taking her gun off him, she nodded and said, "The knives."

As he slowly removed the weapons from his wrists and ankles, carefully placing the deadly blades on the floor, he asked, "Where did you train?"

"Here and there. I'm a girl who likes to get around." Her blue eyes flashed a challenge.

"Clearly. You're very difficult to track down details on."

"Oh, those? I've let you find a few things, but trust me when I say you know nothing about who I really am."

"For example?"

"For example, former Navy SEAL Kenneth Cunningham, I speak three languages, make a perfect madeleine, am gluten intolerant and am quite adept in the art of fencing."

"You bluff."

"I can assure you, I'm not."

"How good?"

"Junior Olympics. Sabre."

"Who taught you?"

"No one. From the time I could walk, I favored a blade. I found a fencing school and began training." She looked down at the pile and said, "You must have a wire or some sort of binding mechanism on you, be a good lad and line up whatever you're still holding on the ground."

Wordlessly, he complied and she continued, "Where was I? Oh yes, sources tell me fencing is how you blow off steam from time to time. Personally, I would've pegged you as a pugilist or perhaps one of those guys who gets up too early to work their frustrations out by rowing. On your knees."

As instructed, he knelt, wondering if this was how his life would end. Given his accumulation of sins, he certainly deserved worse than a clean shot to the head.

Licking her lips, she held his gaze and asked, "How were you going to do it?"

"Shoot you upon entry. Clean, instant. Make it look like a robbery."

"Not very creative, are you?"

"It would get the job done."

"What if I offered you a deal?"

"I'm not giving you any information. You might as well shoot me now."

"I expected nothing less. I'm suddenly feeling sporting today and haven't tested my skills in some time, how about a match?"

"The stakes?"

"Your life."

"You'd let me walk away?"

"So sure you would win?"

He looked down and said, "I don't have a weapon."

"There's a secret closet in here you know nothing about. I have equipment. What do you say?"

He considered a moment longer and then answered, "_En garde_."


	52. Sands Through the Hourglass

_AN: Wrath of the Titans is a terrible film - I wouldn't recommend it to anyone. However, gladiator!Rosamund made me think of a more mature Venus, which I hadn't ever really considered before. Also, influences from Avatar's reincarnation policy, that there must always be a senshi…_

**Sands Through the Hour Glass**

Taking a moment to stretch, Venus looked out onto the battlefield, which was littered with bodies, abandoned weapons and hazy, acrid smoke. The war had been going on for as long as she could remember, as long as anyone could recall. It appeared the conflict would continue forever until all the citizens of the galaxy were killed off and there were no survivors, a horrific stalemate where there were no winners.

_How did I get here?_

When the former senshi from Venus had passed in a golden blaze of glory, a warm glow had surrounded her, enveloped her. A sword appeared at her side. A chain about her waist. These were her weapons.

She had been 13.

Of course, the Queen had been aware of her predecessor's death. There had only been a precious few minutes for her to say goodbye to a family she had never seen again, before she was whisked to Magellan Castle to begin training.

Unlike her sisters in arms, she had stayed alive, aging in a time when most people did not live to see their 18th birthday. The senshi from Mars had the greatest record for being killed. Although Venus had warned her - always - to hold back, the fiery temper and spirit seemed to always get the better of her friend. Yet, like a phoenix, a dark haired Martian would appear, ready to start the terrible process over again. The new senshi was currently in training at Phobos-Deimos castle, unprepared for the live theater of war.

Next to herself, Mercury had had the longest life without interruption. A few years younger than Venus, she was cunning – heading a well known tactical guerilla force that was deadly. Mercury used advanced algorithms to track when she and her team would have the greatest chance and least amount of casualties. She was Venus's right arm.

Of the remaining inner senshi, Jupiter was currently dispatched on another continent, across the great sea. Venus couldn't remember the last transmission she's had from the Outer senshi. Her focus was a single minded assault on the most difficult terrain. Closing her eyes, she willed the topography in front of her to change. They had been at a near standstill over the past year, there were gains, then losses – both sides had to be exhausted.

The Battle for the Sahara.

There were other names of course, and only the toughest warriors were sent to the Hausia'a (the great sand bowl). Why anyone would want such a horrible arid place, Venus did not know. There was no great geographic significance to the area, other than it was large. Mercury believed that somewhere in the vast desert was the entrance to Elysion, and thus the key to taking down all of the Terrans. Teams had searched, but thus far, had come up empty. The blue haired senshi was currently somewhere in the great dunes, desperately searching for indicators to the most holy of Terran sites.

Her adversary was the great commander Kunzite. His name brought images of horrible, terrifying things. No one wanted to be captured – and her soldiers instead kept poison such that they could end their lives quickly if needed. She had never seen him, but heard whisperings of his appearance, the angel of death. Tall, austere, carved of stone. Eyes of ice.

She rubbed the grit from her eyes and wondered how much longer this war could continue.

As she usually did, her mind wandered and a familiar fantasy stole into her head. What if she were to walk across the sand, over the massive dunes and give herself over to the enemy. Would the war come to an end? What revenge would the shitennou exact upon her?

Shaking her head, she thought of her next self - what would they tell her? That she had been the greatest warrior of an age? That she had survived and turned the tide of the war? Above all, she hoped the next senshi would never have endure the life she had lived. That the next incarnation would have a peaceful life, with days spent in love and reflection.


	53. Merry Christmas

**_Merry Christmas_**

Lita looked at the spotless kitchen and sighed deeply. She had been called last minute into the hotel where she worked to help put together a Christmas Eve dinner for a bunch of richy riches who couldn't be bothered to cook for themselves. Throughout the service, as she slaved away on sauces, proteins and pastries, she caught glimpses of the happy families through the open kitchen. They were dressed up, enjoying themselves – not a care in the world. Meanwhile, she lived in a grungy one bedroom apartment, scrimping and saving for the day she could open her own bakery. Extra shifts like this – double pay for holiday work – would go a long way towards the payments she would need to make once her loan was approved.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she calculated the time it would take her to walk home and realized she would arrive just in time for midnight. Alone. On Christmas. Maybe she would tune into _A Christmas Story_ and fall asleep under the influence of some heavily spiked eggnog. Grateful at least that Los Angeles didn't get truly cold, she bundled her secondhand trench around her curvy figure, slipped on her headphones and began walking. Although the busy work had gone a long way towards distracting her, as she walked, dangerous thoughts crept into her head. This time of year always reminded her of him.

Nathan Voltaggio.

Her college sweetheart.

He was a transfer student from Italy, and when he hadn't been able to make it home their first Christmas together, they had come up with an elaborate celebration plan. On top of many crazy rituals, she still couldn't shake the habit of buying the necessary ingredients for the random drink, 'Reindeer Surprise,' they had concocted.

Where was he now?

After graduation, she had moved to Los Angeles and he had returned home, but not before promising to come back to her.

That had been five long years ago.

Friends told her to move on, but there was something that wouldn't let her go.

Trudging to the second floor, she paused at her door, finding it curious that it was unlocked. She'd been rushed to leave the house this afternoon, but she usually wasn't too busy to lock the door. Hesitant, she looked around. Her neighbors, a large family living in a too small place, were nowhere to be seen. Pulling the small can of mace from her bag, she palmed the canister and walked cautiously ahead.

Her small tree – which she definitely remembered unplugging – was lit up, putting a soft focus on the room.

"_Ciao, bella_."

She would recognize the accented voice anywhere.

"You still keep your key in the same spot."

Lita, who notoriously lost her keys on a regular and ongoing basis, kept a spare in a small frog statue in a flower pot by the door. Of course he would remember. The silly piece of ceramic had been a gift from him. '_You will not kiss him when you have me around.'_

"Where are you?" her voice unsteady.

"In the bedroom, _tesoro_."

Looking at her reflection in mirror, she shook her head. Of course he would pick today to show up. She's got flour and parts of a carrot soup that went awry in her hair. Shrugging, she straightened her shoulders, and pulled out her ponytail holder, sending her mahogany curls flying and hopes for the best.

The sight that greeted her was a very happy one indeed.

"Merry Christmas."

_AN: If you're on LJ, there is a very nice picture accompanying this short._


	54. All Alone in the Moonlight

_AN: There's a pic that goes with this, if you're on LJ, you'll be able to see it._**  
**

**All Alone in the Moonlight**

It's Jadeite's first trip to the Moon.

Kunzite, in his infinite wisdom and constant preparation of planning for all possible scenarios that might threaten their liege, has already been on multiple occasions. When pressed for details, he is, as usual, nothing short of succinct. Even Zoisite is unable to cajole much more than '_it's warmer than I thought_' from the leader of their inner guard.

And yet…

Jadeite has reason to believe something is different with the silver haired general, but can't quite put his gloved finger on what that is, nor can he understand why he has been tapped to make the next trip with Endymion. Although he's excited, he doesn't quite buy Kunzite's need to suddenly review training at the Western barracks.

"Ready?"

"Yes, my lord."

Endymion smiles at the title, knowing it's rarely used among their inner circle – trotted out only when matters of state are involved.

"My lord?"

"Yes, Jadeite?"

"Is there anything...special I should be aware of?"

Endymion taps a finger on his lips and finally answers, "Nothing to be concerned about."

The enigmatic answer is not appreciated, but what is Jadeite to do? Argue with the Prince of the Golden Kingdom? He instead straightens his immaculate uniform and awaits the transfer. With advanced technology, the journey is short and not too jarring (he is, after all, a soldier and appearances must be kept up). They are greeted and then shown to their rooms (adjoining suites). Privately, Kunzite has given the younger general a discreet word that their Prince may try to duck responsibilities and make time to see 'her.'

"Where?"

"They seem to prefer the gardens."

_Why didn't you stop him? _The question remains unspoken.

Here in his room, Jadeite begins to understand the pull and call of the unknown. As quiet as he tries to be, some hours later, Jadeite hears the adjoining door _snick_shut and leaps from the bed, throwing on a tunic and cloak (forgoing the gloves and other accoutrements – Kunzite be damned) and gratefully catches a glimpse of his errant prince turning the corner. So intent on keeping an eye on Endymion, Jadeite is stopped in his tracks as a light shifts and he realizes someone else is in the corridor.

Pale skin – more than he's ever seen previously.

Red lips.

Dark hair cascading onto an equally lovely _décolletage_.

Was this what - _who?_- Kunzite hadn't spoken of.

Disarmed by the blush on her cheek, in an instant, Jadeite decides to let the lord he's charged with go and moves forward to make his acquaintance with the beautiful creature in front of him.


	55. Eldiven

_Assassin!verse (Agent K alone)**  
**_

**Eldiven**

Istanbul.

Constantinople.

The City of Seven Hills.

East meets West meets…running a hand through his hair, Agent K shakes off his tiredness. The mark today had been part of a month long project – a corrupt businessman who forgot to pay the right people. Usual story. Different setting. He's had his fill of Turkish coffee and is more than ready to move on.

"Where to?" the driver asks as Agent K slides into the back of a darkened sedan.

"Ataturk." His voice does not invite further conversation.

Agent K settles back into his seat. He hates flying, but at least this trip he's returning to a city he can enjoy. Tapping a few buttons on his heavily secured smart phone, he begins scrolling through the digital files of his next assignment. It's a woman – and it's been a long time since he's killed one. He doesn't have a code against killing the fairer sex, per se, but there is an unspoken agreement with his broker to avoid women and children if possible. As the driver attempts to move through traffic, Agent K soaks up the material, absorbing a variety of facts and figures of his next target. Any trained mental health professional would probably question why he continues to throw himself headlong from one appointment to the next. Why he feels no remorse, no guilt. Why there is never any hesitation when he needs to kill. In his world, questions usually lead to a place better left alone.

"Airline?"

"BA."

Nearing arrivals, the car pulls up to the curb and Agent K unlocks his seat belt, tosses a few bills in the front seat and moves to leave the vehicle.

"Sir, _eldiven_?" The driver asks in a heavily accented voice, gesturing to the seat.

He looks at the discarded leather gloves and remembers not even an hour ago when they were clenched tightly around a gentleman's neck, squeezing the breath from his body and crushing his windpipe. Agent K watched bright blue eyes go dark…then sits up, thinks of how he's planning to kill his next target, straightens his tie and answers, "I won't need them where I'm going."


	56. Turista

_Who? R/J_

_When? Modern, no verse_

_Written on the fly during lunch - apologies! If anyone knows Italian please correct my rudimentary attempts._

**Turista**

He could spot a _turista_ a mile away – their shoes, ugly jeans, clunky cameras and various photographic accoutrement. They gave off a certain cloud of desperation – attempting to visit all the Eternal City had to offer in a matter of days, marching their way through the city checking off landmarks and fountains, sampling gelato and taking up space on the Spanish Steps. As a resident for years, he still could barely tolerate their presence. The travelers were bad enough; it was the occasional young woman who fancied herself a page out of _Eat, Pray, Love_ that irritated him the most. Italy was ancient – a place that was earned, not a destination to fly into and magically find yourself in a matter of months.

One evening, strolling along the cobblestoned streets, he dodged a Vespa, stepped past some highly intoxicated university students and happened upon a most overwhelming sight. Across the small narrow _strada_, she was a vision. In an ancient city he literally felt the history weigh upon him from day to day and as an antiquities dealer, he lived quite a bit of his life in the past. Here, however, he suddenly felt alive.

Tourist or no, her very presence intrigued him.

The words '_ciao, bella_' slipped from his lips before he knew what he was saying.

She looked up - startlingly lavender eyes greeting him below the trendy brim of a fedora that looked as if cost more than his weekly rent and stepped into a nearby cafe. The friend he was going to meet could wait, tonight destiny arrived in the form of a beautiful _turista_.


	57. Shorn

_V/K, SilMil_

**Shorn**

The princess and senshi of Venus cared little for her time on the Earth. As far as she was concerned, it was a cold, desolate place lacking in many social graces, advanced culture and seemed to be barren of magic of any kind. Her visits were borne with a sense of duty, and she did not look forward to their appearance on her calendar. The last visit had interrupted a very busy social season and all but ended her torrid affair with the recently promoted Jovian Minister of War.

Mostly, she dreaded interacting with her counterpart, General Kunzite. Besides being aloof, arrogant and austere, he seemed to not take her opinion seriously. Even though she could quote complicated battle stratagems, recite theories and lessons from clashes across the galaxy, his dismissive behavior was enough to rattle her polished court character.

Now, in the sticky summer months, summoned to General Kunzite's home territory, Venus braced herself for another tedious round of talks. With her host inexplicably missing, the senshi grew frustrated with his absence and politely excused herself, determined to find the soldier and share her opinion of his behavior. Making her way towards the barracks, she paused at the training courtyard, where a lone fencer caught her eye. While the young woman did appreciate men from all planets in the solar system, thus far she had yet to feel an attraction to a man on earth.

What was it about this one?

Sliding her slim figure behind a column, she watched as he went through the paces. Gracefully turning, executing the forms and seamlessly moving his blade, there was no doubt he was an expert with the weapon. Something seemed familiar about his persona - who did he remind her of? In her capacity as senshi and princess, she met numerous individuals, but felt certain she would have remembered such a fine masculine figure. He finished, saluted to an invisible opponent and turned to look in her direction.

Never one to shy away from a challenge, she met his stare and couldn't stop herself from drawing a quick breath. The man in front of her was none other than General Kunzite, hair cropped short no doubt to protect him from the blazing temperatures of the desert environment. He didn't look away and she found she couldn't quite break the intense gaze aimed at her.


	58. Lost and Found

_Written for Ficathon 2012. Read everyone else's submissions - they're way better than mine.  
_

**Lost and Found  
**

_In Greek, nostalgia literally means 'the pain of an old wound.' It's a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone._

He can't remember when exactly the ache started. The feeling has always seemed to be a silent passenger in his life.

The impression he shouldn't be alone, but has always remained by himself is the eternal question he cannot answer.

Although he would never admit to it, the ache that fills him, that grows stronger every day is a yearning. For what, he does not know. For who, he cannot guess. But the twinge follows him around like an inescapable shadow. As it grows worse, as it begins to turn painful, causing his chest to ache and making it difficult for him to breathe, he finally stops spending all his energy fighting.

Once he stops disregarding the signs, once the internal wall comes down and he accepts whatever his subconscious has been trying to tell him for years, the visions come.

Dreams so real he wakes up in a cold sweat – chest heaving, desperate to catch his breath. In all his life, he never knew dreams could be so vivid. Pictures of himself dressed in armor. A great cape twirling. Sword flashing. There are brave comrades at his side – if he could only glimpse their faces… A man he cannot save. Red hair. Blood. Everywhere. Anguish. Despair. Having wanted to accept whatever truth he had been ignoring, at first he dreads going to sleep. He self medicates with alcohol and pills that numb him, keeping the horrible images away.

With no one to talk to, it takes him months to find the courage to let himself dream again. When he does, he wishes he had faced the fear that had been holding him back. That he would be as brave as his dream self clearly was. The visions force him to begin to live a life he is merely drifting through.

Until he starts focusing on the events of what he was sure was some sort of past life, it was if he truly hadn't lived. He takes up mediation and even though it feels silly, he decides to learn fencing. Through sword work and dreams and focus he comes to know his former self. His past self was confident, stoic and unflinching. He recognizes these qualities in himself and starts to grow into them.

And still the yearning remains.

Empty relationships, sex cannot fill him. These tawdry events only remind him of what he does not have.

He looks out into the night, up at the stars, into the heavens and feels a distant, remote connection. What answers did they hold? What would his former self do? Who is his past identity trying to find?

~0~

She has always been missing something. The sensation of having constantly forgot a tangible object. There, it's not her keys, her phone, or her passport. It's not her scarf or the lucky scarlet ribbon she keeps – a memento from childhood days. It's not the worn picture of her beloved cat who is currently residing with her friend Amy in Palo Alto. It's nothing concrete, just the feeling she is without.

Inescapable, the feeling follows her around the world. Throughout her travels, her studies, her various relationships, the sentiment of being disconnected refuses to relent. When her luggage goes missing on a trip to Hong Kong, she thinks for an instant this is the moment when she'll finally feel some release, but when the loyal vintage Louis Vuitton is returned, she feels nothing.

The absence follows her and she wonders if others feel the same, if friends in her life have some almost unbearable gap in their own lives. But the topic, special to her, a cross for her alone to bear, remains an unspoken situation. The relationships she does have end after a few months. Most of her ex-lovers would never admit to the fact, but the bright spark they were initially attracted to has an impenetrable wall surrounding her heart. It's a barrier they can never hope to break. Some last longer than others, but eventually they all move on – second best to someone unknown.

~0~

In the background, his television is on, volume low and the strangest feeling surrounds him during, of all things, a shampoo commercial. There is a flash of long blonde hair and the image, seemingly random, triggers something buried deep within him.

Thus far, his memories had been of war and anger and frustration, but lurking below those recollections – a feeling of warmth and passion.

Why now?

Why this time and that commercial?

Suddenly tired, he stumbles to the unmade bed. Falling into a deep sleep, he wakes up refreshed – with the smell of jasmine surrounding him.

Can she be found?

He feels the need to seek her forgiveness, to be absolved of some sin he cannot remember.

For the first time in forever, he feels there's a chance that he might find what's he's been searching for.

~0~

For all her travels, it's her first time to Ireland. Upon her first breath of air after the long flight, she feels a peace that has long been missing. As the driver winds his way through the narrow streets, she falls in love with the old world sensations the country brings to mind. In this place, she feels that perhaps what she's been missing might be found. Pulling up to the cozy inn, the driver deposits her bag and drives away. Towards the end of the high season, in the middle of the week, the owners, a charming couple, inform her she is the only guest and that fact suits her just fine. Looking through the well thumbed guidebook on her dressing table, she finds a walk that looks interesting and places the book to the side. Succumbing to jet lag, she sinks into the soft bedding.

Somewhat disoriented, she wakes up hours later as the sun just peaks over the horizon. Pale morning light filters into the room. Recalling the walk, she decides to start her morning among nature. Rubbing her dry hands with jasmine scented lotion, she moves silently through the old house, then slides into a pair of red wellies near the door and sneaks out early in the morning. Looking up to the sky she notes it's early enough that Venus still holds court in the sky.

The world is covered in dew and the stillness draws her in.

The path, slightly overgrown, winds and wild roses grow heavy around her, perfuming the air. She stops, holds her breath. The flowers remind her of a memory she cannot recall.

The forest begins to close in, starts to block out the early morning sky, but still she continues, driven forward by a force she cannot name.

The destination of the tramp is nothing special – a small brook, said to hold healing properties. It's more of a distant objective than anything else – a reason to be out this early in the morning.

She expects to see no one, but still holds out hoping that she might recover whatever she's been missing could be found in the forest.

~0~

He felt silly booking the last minute ticket, paying outrageous fees and not caring. Why Ireland? He doesn't know. He thinks his new friends, long lost brothers, really, will probably laugh when they find out, but he will take their joking in stride. Finding them has been an important step, but it's not the final one.

And yet when he lands, when he sees the rolling green hills, he feels he is in the right place. For what, he doesn't know. Maybe this goddamned yearning in his body will finally be released.

He begins to walk.

Maybe he wasn't meant to find her. Maybe he wasn't meant to find true love in this life time. Maybe he can take comfort in the fact that he's found his brothers and rest with that.

He doesn't let the time of day or the weather stop him or slow him down. He's long ago given up listening to the small voice in his head that tells him of reality and that walking off into the woods in a foreign country with nary a thing is insanity. He tells the voice to be quiet and listens instead to his inner most voice – the one who showed him where the memories of his past life were. The one that told him to come here today.

He wanders – like a magnet, pulled by some unseen force.

And, like a nymph or a sprite or some other sort of fairy creature, the woman he knew he was looking for, but could never actually seem to find is there, in front of him. On the opposite side of the small stream of water, she looks radiant and exactly as he thought she would appear.

"It's you," he says.

"It's you," she answers.

She offers her hand and without hesitation he wades through the stream towards her.


	59. Wrong Place, Wrong Time

_I have not written new fiction since early forever, please be kind. Furthermore, I hate writing non-canon. Forcing myself out of my comfort zone here…_

_N/V - SilMil AU (Mish)_

**Wrong Place, Wrong Time  
**

Among the fields and and grasslands and terrain a shining meteor fell to earth. Nephrite, Lord of the Plains, seer of stars, one the four sentinels of the High Prince, voyaged out alone, surprised to see the satellite was actually a woman – and yet not the one his visions had foretold. In front of him, a blonde warrior – armed with a lethal sword instead of thunder and lightning from the heavens - demanded to see his liege. As sunrise peaked around them, she took stock of his person and found him wanting. Was he also not who she had expected?

Surmising she had journeyed from the Lunar kingdom (they were partial to brilliant entrances and exits), Nephrite set out with his guest – warily keeping an eye on her lithe form. The journey was arduous, but she did not complain. She rode, but rarely spoke – not giving anything away. In this, he was her guarded reflection. Still, he couldn't help it as his admiration for her grew – whether or not she is who was supposed to land in front of him, he cannot deny the attraction he feels. As they near the great city, Nephrite finds himself growing unexpectedly anxious – not ready to share her with the court.

"We reach Elysion tomorrow," he announces, careful not to betray himself.

If she feels anything, if this information has any impact on her, she keeps the emotions to herself.

"Might we stop in a place near clean water?"

The request is a fair one. Although her hair, the waves of blonde have held up their vibrant color and unwavering luster, he supposes bathing is in order before going to see the Prince.

Near sunset they reach a stream. He tends to the horses and pushes thoughts of his very naked traveling companion out of his head. _One more day…_

"Nephrite."

His name has never given his cause for alarm – but spoken in this tone, he is instantly wary.

"Come."

As his mind shuts off, his feet take over and he finds himself at the edge of the stream. Translucent water slides of the body he's dreamed of is perfect, more amazing than he had imagined. His own clothes, odorous from the journey fall from his body and short of the necklace bestowed upon him by the Prince, he joins her in the water. She gazes at him – blue eyes fierce and he reaches out, pulling her close, noticing the shiver of her body as he pulls her flush against the hard planes of his form. She is warm in the cool liquid and he begins to drink her up like a man dying of thirst. For a few precious minutes he is able to forget his responsibilities, the precious predictions of the stars and focus on the feel of satin skin and a feminine core of explosive heat.

The next day, in the courtyard of the castle, they instantly are overwhelmed by courtiers, diplomats and his brothers-in-arms. He doesn't miss the moment when the quicksilver eyes of General Kunzite sweep over her small figure, latch onto to the sword. As he knew would happen, if he even ever had her, Nephrite's lost her. The sting is sharp – cutting faster and deeper than any blade. She was not to be his – not for a moment. The stars have another in mind, but it doesn't make the loss any less devastating.


	60. Here Kitty, Kitty

_This is kind of a sequel / partner piece to a short I did ages ago (**Under the Big Top**). Also, I'm reading the Night Circus right now, so the topic is kind of on my brain._

_Who? Who else? V/K_

**Here Kitty, Kitty**

He can't help but notice her. Of course, her costume is designed this way - but it's more than the shapely legs and generous bosom - the blonde hair piled high and powdered with glitter.

It's her complete lack of fear.

She stands alone in a ring with a massive white tiger with nothing more than a sparkly cape as a defense. As the spotlight concentrates on the pair, there is a hush over the large crowd. Stepping neatly, she coaxes the large animal through his paces. The cat is quite acrobatic and lazily goes through the motions of his routine. A good performer, she senses losing the audience's attention, and with a nearly imperceptible command, the tiger roars to life, catching everyone unaware. Suddenly, from nowhere, she produces a large sword and the two begin to playact what can only be described as a terrifying gladiator scene. The action looks so real that audience members snatch up their handkerchiefs and hide their faces, terrified for the beautiful woman.

With what looks like impending doom, the tiger pounces and as if time stops, the entertainer's weapon slices neatly through the air and a crimson scarf appears out of nowhere, simulating the attack and spray of blood. The tiger, an actor unto himself, falls to the ground and remains still while the red garment flutters to the floor, marring the perfect silver coat.

While thunderous applause sounds around the arena, the _deja vu_ is unmistakable - he's seen her before.

He's been a part of this moment.

Somewhere, in a place he cannot admit, he knows _he_ was the tiger.


	61. Bubbles

_When? SilMil_

_Who? A/Z_

_No warnings, just fluff._

**Bubbles**

Unprepared for his first round of endless meetings and consular sessions, Zoisite finds himself in desperate need of respite. While his fellow brothers at arms might feel comfortable among the seemingly infinite nuances of diplomacy, the youngest of the Terran courtiers needs a place to collect his thoughts. Recalling the way to the extensive Lunar libraries, he wanders in - instantly relieved at the absolute quiet and solace. Scanning the room, he hopes it is unattended. Just when he is about to completely relax, he spies a curious thing.

Bubbles.

The crystal spheres float peacefully from a small corner, tucked away near a large window.

Walking softly, he creeps towards the strange magic, interested in what is producing such a phenomenon.

"Oh!" a feminine voice says, as the bubbles clear away - dissipating into the air.

Recognizing the delicate features of the Mercurian delegate, Zoisite is taken aback and unable to find his voice.

Cheeks pink, the young woman says, "My apologies."

"What for?" Zoicite responds, speech regained.

"I suppose nothing... I thought I was alone."

Zoisite, borrowing a move from the cavalier Jadeite, bows low, and says, "A thousand pardons for interrupting your space, milady."

Her blush deepens and she gestures to the empty seat across from her, "Please."

"If you insist." Mindful of his sword and forcing his gaze away from the expanse of pale skin, he looks into sapphire eyes and says, "I've never seen this sort of enchantment before. Is it a spell?"

She ponders the question and responds, "Of a kind. It is a specialty of my home planet."

And with the door to small talk and polite conversation open, Zoisite finds himself in comfortable territory and engagements be damned, passes the remainder of the afternoon in her delightful company.


	62. Uninvited

Who? V/K (apparently, this muse has set up shop in my head)

When? SilMil, Mish

**Uninvited**

_Like any uncharted territory,_  
_I must seem greatly intriguing._  
_You speak of my love like,_  
_You have experienced love like mine before -_  
_But this is not allowed_  
_You're uninvited_  
_An unfortunate slight._

_I don't think you unworthy,_  
_I need a moment to deliberate._

**_- Uninvited, Alanis Morrisette_**

Lady Venus had not planned on the dalliance lasting as long as it had. The assignment had been simple - extract knowledge from the Lord Kunzite and report back her findings. It hadn't been the first time she had tumbled an influential nobleman and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Although, in her long list of lovers, she had never found a more perfect match in the bedchamber. She hadn't been prepared for the passion and unshakable desire she continues to hold for him. Try as she might not to indulge her weakness, it's more than his body, she craves nearly everything about him.

_Does he suspect I am spying?_

Through their pillow talk she had learned all sorts of interesting tidbits about the Terran court and although initially difficult, had deduced chinks in the proverbial armor. The old king is entirely too wary of magic. His fear has left the entire population susceptible to an outsider - most likely someone with dark magic - to infiltrate. Her reports to the Queen are as such and, even with this oversight, Selenity believed the Terran civilization not one to be truly considered a threat. After all, the risk was limited and no one in the Lunar court knew of an entity capable of subverting an entire kingdom. They would remain wary and vigilant, but ultimately passive. After all, Selenity had enough to worry about in her own queendom.

Disrupting her thoughts, Kunzite, dangerously quiet, enters the room. Venus pauses, and wonders how her information will influence the Queen's decision to grant her daughter's fondest wish. Lady Venus has only had limited interaction with Endymion, but has heard Kunzite routinely speak highly of his liege. Although she wouldn't question the Queen, she wonders at the timing of her retreat.

"Something troubles you?"

"I must return." She shakes her head, blonde hair waving, and focuses her attention on the man in front of her.

"Home?"

"The Lunar court."

"Ah." If he is surprised, he doesn't respond. If he cares, he does not comment. Instead he says, "Remove your gown."

They have played many games in his quarters, sometimes he is in charge, other times she takes the lead. Still, she senses gentleness in his instruction and does as she's bode. As she bares herself, he discards his tunic, leggings and boots until they are both naked. His body bears scars, hers is polished and smooth.

"Come."

She moves into his embrace and he pulls her close. As always, she is amazed at how perfectly she fits against him. Like the sword she carries at her side, there is a feeling of wholeness - of being complete. She inhales deeply, trying to commit to memory his wholly masculine scent. Feeling his hands on her ribs, she wonders at the gentleness. She had sparred against this man - he is dangerous, harsh and unyielding. Closing her eyes, the Goddess of Love incarnate senses their heartbeats match up. If this is to be their last time together, she will enjoy herself and cherish the memory.

The Lady Venus will admit her fault to none, but in a few months time, when she sees him across the battlefield, her heart - the one currently perfectly in sync with his - will break.


	63. Foolish Games

_Who? V/K_

_When? AU, modern!Cowboys_

**Foolish Games**

"Is this really necessary?"

"It is."

"And why aren't you under the truck?"

"You were already dirty."

On the ground, he quirks a pale eyebrow in her direction and, shuffling under the vehicle says, "I'm pretty sure you ended up with some jam on your shirt this morning."

"I did-" Mina looks down and spies the offending spot and huffs, "Why were you looking at my chest anyway?"

"You're wearing your date bra because all your others are hanging up in the bathroom. It's kind of hard not to notice Mary Kate and Ashley."

Glad he's under the car and can't see her blush, she ignores the comment about her chest and choice of lingerie, and says, "Have you found him?"

"Oh, he's here, he just doesn't want to come out. I wonder where he inherited that quality from."

"Artie..." Mina croons and leans back against the fence, treating herself to an unobstructed view of her roommate's glorious posterior. She decides not to mention she scattered some tuna - the cat's favorite - under the truck earlier.


	64. Papa was a Rolling Stone

_AN: I think someone's done something similar to this at some point, but what do we know about the parents of the Shitennou? Here's my take on one... Could be the start of Papa!verse._

_Who? OC (Kunzite adjacent)_

_When? pre-SilMil_

**Papa Was a Rolling Stone**

By trade, he is a simple man - a blacksmith from the middle eastern region of the great empire of the Gemini. He pays his tithes and taxes. He participates in town life. He celebrates the Feast of Elysion. He makes offerings to the Lady Selene. And yet, there are whispers. Something about him is not normal. His silver hair is considered too exotic. His eyes - grey of a late winter morning - are not seen in these parts. Older citizens make signs to ward off evil when they see him. When he was younger, his mother plastered mud in his head - trying to diminish the color, but since her passing, he has accepted the tone. Call it pride, but it is something that sets him apart.

When soldiers come from the capital and the town is asked to provide one man to serve, he sees the stares, understands the unspoken expectations and is in no way shocked when the mayor says, "Kohar will go."

There is no point in fighting what Lady Fate has decided for him. Kohar puts down his tools, wipes the sweat from his brow and says, "Let me collect my things."

They take the overland route by the coast and Kohar watches quietly. He has never left the village before and all that appears in front of him he commits to memory. The expanse of sea, the growing population - where has he been living his whole life? Along the way, they collect other tributes - men culled from various regions. All are wary, unsure what the service to the crown will entail. There are rumors - endless whispers of what awaits them in the court of the Gemini. Once in the city, they are forced into barracks and fierce training begins. Having made swords his entire life, Kohar excels and naturally rises through the ranks. Here, he is accepted. Here, he is important. People listen when he speaks. While he puts on a front of accepting orders at will, try as he might, he cannot get an answer of what they are preparing for.

Finally, in the middle of a moonless night - the answer comes.

Revolution.

In the court of the Gemini, two brothers are at odds. Behind the back of the other, one has wrested control of the military - loyalty to him alone. Dissenters from the schism will be executed.

Kohar has interacted with both men. The betrayal sickens him, but he pushes down the guilt and does as he is told.

The coup is bloodier than either side imagined. Many brave young men lose their lives. When the dust settles and the dead are buried, for his bravery in battle, Kohar is given a grand new title, King of the Middle East, a Shitennou. In a ceremony, a magnificent sword of his own design touches his shoulders and he rises a knight of the new realm - the reign of the Terran army has begun.

And yet, for his loyalty, Kohar felt he has betrayed his country. He is fearful, sleeping with one eye open, knowing there are still those loyal to the brother who lost. He remains vigilant until a fair maid catches his eye and his nights are spent in leisure. In turn, her abdomen grows round and he counts the days until his son will join them. In the days nearing the birth, he feels the need to return home - to make amends, to atone for his sins. She begs him not to go - that the town will be there after the birth of their child. He sets out before dawn, along the same road that brought him to the capital. Will they recognize him? Has any word of his exploits made it back to them? How will he be received?

The village is smaller than he remembers. It seems untouched from the ravages and bloodshed of the coup. Perhaps, he can bring his love here and spend his days ruling from an outpost - tucked away from the drama and backstabbing that court life seems to bring. The trademark silver hair, once shorn close, now streams in the wind like a banner. Tying his horse up, he is cornered by a man he's known his entire life.

"You betrayed us."

Kohar doesn't understand. How could this remote outpost be loyal to one brother or another? "How?"

"You left to support the court of the Gemini. Now we are Terran."

Another man approaches, "You know we don't take kindly to change."

What did he expect? Gratitude? He knew they were a simple people, but didn't realize how deep that ignorance went. And then he notices the town gathering around him. How had he let his guard down?

"Why did you return?"

"Think you're better than us, 'King?'"

"They said you would be back some time or another."

A sword appears, then a pike and a pitchfork.

Before long, the silver hair lays limp and bloodied.

And thus, Kunzite, son of Kohar, comes screaming into the world without a father. In a sense of commitment to the next generation, the new king appoints Kunzite the title and after a few years pass and the heir to the Terran king is born, the young Shitennou, a serious, quiet boy, swears allegiance and protection to the new prince.


	65. Sunday Morning

_Who? Assassin!verse N/L (as if there was a timeline...)_

**Sunday Morning**

Delicious aromas awakened Nicholas who opened his eyes, blinked and remembered where he was. This wasn't his immaculate flat - this was Leda's. Letting consciousness filter back into his body, he sighted remnants of the previous night's passion strewn across the eclectically decorated room. Clothes on the floor - a lacy bra on the dresser - his trousers had to be in the hallway. He rubbed his face and smiled - not something he was used to. His default reaction in the morning was to wake up to an overwhelming sense of guilt and ennui and then move towards wondering if he was living up to his fullest potential. At the moment, however, he felt sated and idly scratching below the toned muscles of his abdomen, ready for round four.

And yet the guilt still crept in - the lives he couldn't save, comrades that had died on missions...the body count was higher than he could ever atone for.

Hearing her husky voice sing some sort of Greek pop song made him realize that perhaps, somehow, she was wrapped up in his redemption.

He wasn't sure how it was possible - how one woman could be the balm he had been searching for and yet, he had an innate feeling she was. She could. Beneath her sarcasm, her cool under pressure and innate sensuality was a resourceful and unbelievably resilient woman. More than that, from the moment he had begun surveillance on her, he felt as if he knew her. Had she felt the same? Was he searching for something he could never have? Was this about last night or something more? Something permanent?

"_Moro mou_?" She called from the kitchenette.

"Yes?"

"Are you awake?"

"Yes."

"Very good."

He sat up and asked, "Who is looking after your store?"

"I have people. Not to worry - they can handle things for a day or two." Her voice carried closer and he looked up to see her lean on the door frame, dressed in his custom fitted oxford, middle buttons straining over her generous breasts. His voice left him. She gave a throaty chuckle and walking over to the bed, commented, "I see you still have a fascination with my chest. And after all your study last night..."

"How can I not?" He grabbed her around the waist and held her close. "What will we do today?"

"We have already saved the world, yes?"

"A part of it."

"Then I think we deserve a day off."

"Do you? And what would we do with our time?"

She pretended to give the question deep thought and then answered, "More of what we did last night."

"And then?"

She raised emerald green eyes to his dark brown ones and answered seriously, "Are you ready for a change?"

"What do you mean?"

"There is another organization..."

"Connected to a government?"

"Not exactly."

Being in close proximity to her, other parts of his body were starting to take over most of his thoughts, so he said, "How about you convince me I need a change?"

In a swift move, she pinned him to the mattress and said, "Watch me."


	66. Library

_Oh Professor!verse and all my precious little verses, how I have abandoned thee._

_Who? A/Z, AU_

**Library** (don't they always end up in one?)

Perched on top of some ancient tomes, she reaches to the top shelf and asks impertinently, "Here?"

The blonde man on the couch in his study, blushes slightly, noticing the amount of upper thigh revealed in this action. Rubbing the short blonde goatee on his chin, he says, "That will do."

The young woman in front of him, brilliant in her own right, is searching for a book that will help prove her theory. Both scientists, history and liberal arts present topics neither is particularly knowledgeable on and this argument came from an article Dr. Amy Mathews stumbled across in the Times this morning over breakfast in bed.

"Why on earth do you have a book on gladiators anyway?"

"It was a phase."

Amy raises an eyebrow, rummages for an extra moment, then, buried among various outdated textbooks and a Neil Gaiman novel, finds the book in question and pulls it off the shelf. Daintily stepping off her perch, Amy settles next to Zane and begins flipping through the chapters.

"I don't know what you think you're going to find in there," Zane comments. "I know I'm right."

"So sure of yourself, are you?"

"I am."

Amy reaches for her tortoiseshell glasses on the nearby table and, after a few moment of scanning text, says triumphantly, "There were so female gladiators! I was right. You owe me!"

Zane pouts for a brief moment and then says, "We never settled the terms of this disagreement. What is it you want?"

Amy looks around the room - at the awards, at the priceless textbooks and first editions, then pulls the yellow oxford closer around her naked form and says, "This shirt."

"Nothing else?" Zane moves closer and murmurs some additional services he would be happy to provide.


	67. The Dress

When? SilMil VxK

**The Dress**

The ball was all anyone could talk about for months. The Lunar kingdom had been in intense preparationover the past few weeks – invites checked and double checked, chefs brought in, flowers arranged, and sommeliers busy pulling vintage selections from the stores. All worked tireless in the joyous occasion for the official debut of their Princess to society. While there were murmurs of the potential for a dual engagement and debut, the senshi from Venus knew better. Yes, many of the galaxies would send delegates. Yes, some were of marriageable age and appropriate lineage, but Venus knew that her liege Queen Selene did not want to rush her only daughter into matrimony. Background would play a role, but the queen hoped for a love match – one that would usher in the next successful generation of the Silver Millennium.

Venus had her own concerns.

Tonight, tonight was different.

A debutante had different rules than young women who had been out a season. What Serena was allowed to wear and who she could interact with were quite different than the rules that now governed Venus, who, like her other princess warriors, had already had her debut. Venus wanted to make an impact.

In the royal corridors, the royal seamstress and her team were everywhere at once, fluttering around and making last minute changes. The woman, a busty Jovian, came into the Venusian's chambers, helped by a red haired maid, who brought in the blonde's first choice – a white gown with gold highlights. The neckline was demure, but the shape of the dress was formfitting. At the last minute, the redhead took a misstep. The sound of tearing cloth echoed across Venus's chambers. Everyone froze.

"I'm so sorry, Lady Venus," the redhead said despondently.

"Beryl, is it?" Venus looked at the young woman, easily within a year of her own age and continued, "Not to worry." She looked at the flustered seamstress and said carefully, "Correct? I'm certain your mistress has another lovely creation I can wear."

"I…"

Venus raised a delicate eyebrow and shook her head. There was no point of berating the young woman who quite clearly felt terrible. Tears shimmered in her eyes and Venus made soothing noises while looking pointedly at the seamstress.

The busty woman tapped a finger on her mouth and said, "There is…something...for your lady mother."

"She is not attending. This has been a fact for the past two lunar cycles. Why do you hesitate?"

"It is not appropriate for an unmarried maiden."

"Let me see it and make the judgment."

Following in Venus's wake, the duo moved to the seamstress's temporary quarters and the older woman revealed a creation of gold cloth. Venus's discerning eyes quickly appraised the material and she said, "Let me try it on."

"Your good mother will surely come after me."

"Would she rather me go naked to the debut of our princess?"

"N-No."

Venus disrobed, leaving on her shift and the seamstress shook her head and explained, "There is…that is, your lady mother did not believe undergarments would be possible."

"Oh." Venus stepped behind a screen and completed disrobing, then pulled on the fabric, which settled gently around her. The sheer panel at her leg aligns with a daring slit nearly all the way to her…

"How does it look?"

Venus understood why the seamstress was worried. The bold cut was for royalty, for a woman, for a lady who had known the touch of a man. Not caring about protocol or the inevitable gossip, she stepped out and said, "I'll wear it."

Fanning herself, the seamstress tried to argue, "But miss…"

"Let them talk."

"This dress will get you into trouble."

Still in the gown, Venus winked and walked out, saying, "I certainly hope it does!"

A few hours later, a pair glided across the dance floor, gold and silver capes fluttering around each other. Venus knew him to be a General from the earth and it felt wonderful in his arms. Tonight was a night to make memories, to forget her station and duty and...

"You're smiling."

"I am."

"I am glad for it."

"Do the women not smile where you are from?"

"Not all the time." They took another swirl around the room and he said, "I must also compliment you on your gown - it is quite lovely."

"Thank you for saying so."

Leaning closer to her ear, he added, "Such a garment gives a man ideas."

Shivering at the contact, Venus asked, "And what ideas would those be?"

"Perhaps you can meet me in the corridor in a short while and I'll share them with you." Not waiting for an answer, the song ended. He bowed, raised an eyebrow and walked off the dance floor.

_AN: The dress that inspired this is an amazing gold creation by Zuhair Murad._


	68. Still Into You

Let's just call things the way they are and say I'm a one trick pony. Mina + Kunzy 4 evah! And a new verse to tempt you with, ladies and gents, I present the first (and probably last) installment of Jockey!verse.

**Still into You**

_Cause after all this time.  
I'm still into you  
I should be over all the butterflies  
But i'm into you (I'm in to you)  
And baby even on our worst nights  
I'm into you (I'm into you)  
Let em wonder how we got this far  
Cause I don't really need to wonder at all  
Yeah after all this time  
I'm still into you._

_**Paramore – Still Into You**_

The early mornings didn't get to him. In fact, he liked them – loved the quiet and the still and being awake before the rest of the world could get its ugly claws into him. In the pre-dawn air, all was perfect. Without crowds there to cheer them on, a horse could still run a magic race – post times they never would on a crowded track. These were the times he liked best.

Thoughts of her stole into his head during these moments. Seated in the owner's box, always in a fashionable hat, laughing, but the smile never quite reaching her eyes. She was a fantastic actress – had everyone convinced but him.

She had been working the track, a pretty young thing still trying to figure out her life. Plucked from obscurity, fate had intervened in the form of Adonis Asturias, of the great Asturias fortune. The polo playboy had wandered by the stables one day and seen Valentine bathing Alluring Ace, a feisty gelding. The rest was history. Wooed and swept off her feet, Matthew hadn't stood a chance. The image of her staring at him burned into his head. When Adonis escorted her out of the stables, Valentine turned to look back. Maybe she'd looked to see if he would make a scene, but he remained silent. She was meant for a better life – one he would never be able to afford. The one night they'd shared wasn't enough for him to take a stand against the man whose money paid his salary – the funds that fed the horses and employed his assistants.

Strangely, with her departure, his luck on the track increased. Matthew threw himself into his work, spending nearly every waking moment on training his precious horses. Adonis and his girlfriend usually stayed away, but today all eyes were on Love Me Venus, a pretty filly with odds to place, potentially even to win. Matthew couldn't explain his feeling, but as soon as the gangly thoroughbred with a rare palomino coloring had arrived at the stables, he knew she would be destined for great things.

And win she did. By five lengths – she had practically pranced across the finish line, handily winning a nice purse and securing Matthew justification for work for at least the next six months. The trainer had stayed at the edge of winner's circle, fussing with equipment as Adonis and Valentine had their picture taken with the horse and jockey – a great garland of roses about Venus's gleaming neck.

Adonis, with any excuse for a party, had chosen a nearby hotel and the revelry had started early in the evening. As the winning trainer, Matthew had been invited. For the most part, he tended to avoid these situations. Being this close to her was difficult. With no excuses not to attend, he drank champagne and focused on the meaningless conversations he entered into, carefully evading the young woman in the green dress.

Ready to leave, his phone buzzed with a new text message and looking at it, he didn't recognize the number.

_ Come to Room 702._

He considered his options, but with 3 glasses of champagne and a highly frustrated libido, he was curious who had sent the message. Could it be the redhead he had flirted with earlier in the night? The socialite with amethyst eyes?

Taking the lift up a few floors, he found the room, and knocked.

A familiar pair of blue eyes met him on the other side of the door.

Backing out further into the hallway, he said, "No."

"You haven't even heard what I have to say."

"I…" 'Don't trust myself around you,' was how he wanted to finish the sentence, that and 'you have a boyfriend.'

"You what? You're afraid?"

"No." Yes.

"I just want to give you something…for Venus."

"Fine." He remembered her silly fascination with the horses. In her short time working for him, she had come up with impossible illogical backstories for each of the horses in the stable. He sighed and walked through the door, making sure to stay as far away from possible from her. She hadn't changed from the gorgeous emerald dress she had worn to the track earlier in the day. The bright color was a nearly perfect match for the lawns surrounding the racing oval. She had removed the outlandish hat – a modern structure of red ribbon and he saw it lay on the nightstand, a work of art in its own right. Crossing his arms, he asked gruffly, "What is it?"

Passing an impeccably wrapped bag across, she said, "It's silly, but I thought you might like a suitable frame for her winners circle picture."

It was just like her – something thoughtful, a present he couldn't turn away. "How did you know she was going to win?"

"You were coaching her."

"That all?" He had to get out of this room. She was too close. Being alone with her was special kind of torture. _You can't have her. She will never be yours._ The pessimistic thoughts raced through his head.

Valentine sat gracefully on the settee – and he realized the opulence of the suite. It was easily the size of his entire apartment. Seeing his way out, he said, "Well, thanks for this, I'll just leave now."

"Do you have to?"

"Isn't A—Mr. Asturias going to be back soon?" Matthew could never and would never force himself to say the name 'Adonis' aloud.

"I don't know."

"Do you want me to stay?" _Please say no. Please say yes._

"I want you to do whatever you think is best."

This was not the answer he was looking for. Slumping down in a chair opposite her, there were so many things he wanted to ask. Was she happy? Did Adonis make her content? Did she know that Venus was her horse? Did she regret leaving with Adonis that day?

"I'm uncomfortable," she said, then swept her hair aside and perched on the small couch. "Can you help get me started? I've had this on long enough."

He looked at his callused hands and wondered how they would feel on the glossy silk. Clenching his fists and keeping them at his side, he asked, "What's your game?"

"I assure you there is no game, Matthew."

"Then why did you text me? Bored?"

"You know it's more than that."

"Do I?"

Her blonde hair falling back over the dress, she stood up and said, "Why do you think I didn't come to the track to see Venus train? It killed me to stay away."

"Then why did you?"

"Don't you think he would guess?"

"What do you mean?"

"If he saw us together…he would know…"

"That we can't live without each other?" Matthew quietly filled in the blank.

Tears glistening, she said, "You understand. If he saw – then he would take everything you've worked for away. I couldn't risk it."

Deeply torn by her sadness, he moved to her side and wiping his rough fingers across her face, brushed the tears away. "You didn't need to stay with him for me."

"If I wasn't with him, there's only one place I would be."

"With me."

"With you."

"What do we do now?"

"Sell Venus."

"I can't. She…means too much to me."

"Technically, she's mine to decide what to do with. We both know he put my name on her papers. The commission from her sale would allow you to set up your own barn. To get away from here. Her reputation would get you a pick of jobs."

Matthew considered his options. He's thought of them before, but finally said, "He'll never go for it."

"We can both work at him."

"Will it be enough?"

"I don't remember you being such a pessimist. I remember someone quite different."

"Maybe I've changed. V, to risk everything..."

"It will be worth it."

There is only one thing he loves more than horses and racing and she's sitting right in front of him. Cupping her face in his hand, he kissed her softly, sweetly. Pulling away, he said, "I'll wait."

_AN: Please allow me some artistic license as I've done none little research on the world of horse racing._


	69. The Seer

_AN: Papa!verse _**  
**

**The Seer**

The man known simply known as the Seer kept council with the twins of the Gemini court. Clearly seeing the script in the stars, he deftly played one against the other, inciting distrust and manipulation throughout the realm. During the civil war that ensued, he backed the correct brother, knowing what the outcome would be. Rewarded for his efforts, he held a seat of strength in the new Terran regime.

But his reign would not last forever. He would grow old, weak and die.

How to preserve his legacy?

In her wisdom, Lady Fate had decided not to grant him the gift of progeny, but he knew there were ways around his fortune.

"You, boy."

An orphan – one of the many from the bloody war – had been tasked with cleaning up after the Seer. For the most part, the youngling stayed out of the way, but the Seer would glimpse him from time to time, catching a thatch of wild mahogany curls barely contained by the queue the child obviously struggled to keep it in. Half wild, the Seer wasn't sure the child was literate, or even had the skills to communicate.

"Sir?"

The accented voice was more polished than he expected.

"Come here."

The boy put down the broom and walked over. Many people crossed themselves before interacting with the Seer, but the child moved unflinchingly forward.

"Look into my eyes."

The boy lifted his head and the Seer peered into the dark brown rings. He saw many curious things, not in the least which included a meteoric rise to power. He saw love and darkness. He saw lightning and thunder, roses and blood. He saw stars.

"What is your name?"

"I believe I am called Nephrite."

"Yes." The Seer tapped a finger on his lips and asked, "What will you do with your life?"

The boy hesitated, clearly unsure if he should speak his mind, but finally answered, "The stars – they speak to me."

"Do they?"

"Yes."

"Can you understand them?"

"Most of the times."

"What do they say?"

"They told me to come to you."

The Seer stroked his beard and responded, "What is it you want?"

"To learn."

"Is that all?"

"I want to be a knight."

"And why should I assist you?"

"I will save your life."

"You will?"

"The stars say so."

The Seer looked to the moon, waning in the autumn sky and said, "It will not be easy."

"I expect not, sir."

"And you are not afraid?"

"There are more daunting things in the world, sir."

"I will need the approval of our liege."

"Tell him I will look out for his newly born son. This is my path."

The Seer nodded and shortly, Nephrite, apprentice to the Seer, began dual studies in divination and knighthood. The quiet young man took his place as a second to Kunzite, son of Kohar, at the side of the young prince.


	70. Rough Seas

_Who? ZxA, circa SilMil AU_

_Rating? Nothing too graphic, but not particularly joyful. _

**Rough Seas**

The battle is fierce and the sea witch has distracted him, forcing their struggle to her stronghold - the sharp shores of the northern territory. Nimbly, she dives into the water, her clothes melting away like a stream flowing through a vale. Her actions taunt him, the siren call of her lithe body slipping below the surface beseech him to follow.

Catching his breath, wiping the blood from his mouth, he waits.

There is no way a person can stay underwater for that long.

This is not how he wants her to meet her end - a coward drowning under in the ocean. She may be magical, but she is human. The injuries he's managed to instill upon her prove his prowess. The puddle of scarlet confirm his sword has made contact.

The dark sea churns around him, waves crashing loudly, endlessly colliding with the dangerous rocks below.

Unable to contain himself, he abandons his clothes and dives in to the cool water.

Surrounded by a pale blue light, he spots her, in a trance of some design. Is she trying to heal herself? Anger dissolving, he recognizes she is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Swimming to the surface, blonde curls dripping, he takes a large gulp of air and returns to her side. Through the sting of saltwater, he watches her closely, noticing she appears not to be breathing. Via some visceral reaction in his body, he grasps his arms around her, ready to buoy her to safety. Rather than fight his grip, she leans into him and he feels the heat of her body meld with his. As they sink towards the depths, oxygen slipping from his lungs, in a flash of realization, he understands that he was lost from the moment he chose to join her and surprisingly accepts his tragic fate. Thoughts of his brothers in arms fade away as they descend into fathoms where sunlight no longer filters through.


	71. Homecoming

**_AN: Written for Ficathon 2013._**

_"Do you think about me now and then?  
Do you think about me now and then?  
Oh, now I'm coming home again…  
…maybe we can start again."_

**_- Homecoming, Kanye West_**

She stands, a sigil in the night. Blonde hair reflects moonlight, casting a pale silver stain to the long tresses that blow gently in a late summer breeze. Golden sparks at her fingers, a white cat at her feet, helicopters loom overhead, swinging low – their blades pounding loudly above.

She can't even remember her old life. 'Awoken' at the tender age of 14, she's been a warrior scout – fighting in the name of love and justice for years. She started alone, then her sisters joined the battle. Finding her princess partially completed the puzzle, but she feels there is more.

A memory pushes to the surface. Early in their days together, the quintet defeated a group of four men. She hasn't been able to forget them – him – the one with quicksilver eyes refuses to fade from her subconscious. Her princess's beloved collected their remains – rocks which sit in a carved wooden box in his office. She's visited his place for parties, informal dinners and occasional meetings but always avoids the room where the stones keep watch.

_Perhaps when they ascend their thrones…_

The feline at her feet looks up at her and puts a paw to his whisker.

She knows it's a silly thought – that they are working towards some sort of unattainable goal, some place that can't be reached, that hasn't been earned. She's looked in the scared flames at the shrine, she's seen the unforgivable acts both sides committed – not only in this life, but the past. Retribution is not in their cards. To live and serve, to protect – that is their sacred duty.

As the leader, she's thus far refused to share her feelings. Not wanting to show weakness, she needs everyone to believe that the reason she works so hard is to support their king and queen to be – the prince and princess they failed. Some days are more difficult than others, but she's been wearing the mask for so long, that the false attitude is nearly second nature.

To her great relief, it is Venus's night to patrol the city. Each of the young women rotate through the patrol – proactively on the lookout for youma. Tonight, she's glad for the action. While she's not sure if it will be supernatural or something for the civilians to handle, she could use the distraction.

_And maybe, he will be there…_

Not an alien from another planet, or a man from her past, perhaps the only person to shake her from the dark cloud following her the past few months is Detective Trevor Williams. Eight years her senior, he is young for a detective, but has a history of getting things solved. His innate ability to lead also puts him above the politics the department seems to offer.

When it comes to the topic of teenage girls in short skirts and magical powers, the police force is respectively cautious. While the press genuinely loves the young women and the seemingly endless supply of solutions they provide for free to the city, they often puts guesses forward as to the true identities of the sailor to some brilliant technology put forward by the Mercurian senshi, the young women's tiaras activate waves which disrupt photos and other recording devices. Pictures of the senshi fighting always seem to come up blurry.

Sighting the detective, she says, "See you tomorrow morning, Artie."

"Yaorw."

"Same to you." She takes a running leap off the ledge, and calls out, "Don't worry."

He should be worried. In her move towards despair that duty and loyalty are draining from her, she has become increasingly risky in her movements.

With some expertly executed acrobatics, Venus lands in a nearby alley. As quietly as 3 inch orange stilettos will allow her to approach, she thinks she's finally got the jump on the detective, when Williams stubs out his cigarette and says, "You're wasting your time."

"Why is that?"

"None of your kind."

"What's the supposed to mean?"

"This was a drug bust gone bad, open and closed case." Seeing her face, he says, "Don't look so disappointed."

Still spoiling for a fight, more than ready to spend some of her unused tension, she clenches her fist and answers, "Fine."

A commotion on the far left side of her peripheral vision is the only indication that something is wrong. Light flashes and a beam of electric blue light heads in her direction. Without hesitation, Venus throws herself in the direction of the beam – at the same time extending her finger. The words, 'Venus Love Me…' are all that she's able to utter before she's struck. Watching the absolute horror on Williams' face, the world fades to black.

She awakes not in her own bed, but on the mattress of a stranger. Her thoughts feel foggy – she knows she needs to alert someone where she is, but a sharp pain in her side pulls her back into sleep.

When she returns to consciousness again, there is a man sitting on a chair in front of her. Feeling alone, fuzzy and in dire need of a shower, she feels for any of her usual accoutrements – the henshin, her fuku…all are absent.

"You were hit."

"I was?"

In a blast of memories, she recalls the events before her blackout. "Williams?"

"Good. You remember."

"Where am I?"

"My home."

"Really?" She moves to sit up and says, "Oww. What happened? Why didn't you take me to a hospital?"

"Would you want to be taken to one?"

Mina thinks of the scrutiny she would be put under, but wanting to gain some semblance of control says, "You didn't have to tell them who I was."

"I wouldn't be able to keep an eye on you there."

"How long have I been out?"

"A few days."

"Days?!" She moves to stand up and besides the unbelievable pain in her side, realizes she is sans everything but a pair of skimpy bikini panties and some bandages.

"I, erm, had to, remove your clothing to stich you up."

"I have stitches? What could possibly make you qualified to perform that sort of rescue?"

"Medic," he blurts out. "I was a medic in the army before I transferred into the police academy."

"That's convenient," she huffs, then winces.

"You want to go to a hospital and double check my work?"

"No."

"Then you might want to stay still. I wasn't able to get you under an x-ray, but I'm fairly certain you cracked a rib or two." The dark circles under his eyes tell of sleepless nights she hope weren't on her behalf.

She eases back to rest on a pillow and asks, "Really?"

"That blow you took was pretty intense."

Rolling her neck trying to release the kinks she's acquired, she says, "You don't have to tell me."

"Thank you, by the way."

"For what?"

"I'm pretty sure you saved my life. That beam was coming directly for me. You dove in front of it."

"You are a pedestrian. My job is to protect the city," she says, then mentally berates herself for belittling her approach to him. Looking around for an escape, she says, "So, can I go now?"

Now it is Williams time to look uncomfortable, and he says, "If you're sure."

"Look, I appreciate everything you've done for me, but clearly there is something out there which I need to protect the city from."

"The rest of your team took care of the monster."

"You've met them?"

"No."

"Then how do you know?" Mina challenged.

"I've kept an ear on the police scanner." He nods to a device sitting on a table in the living room.

"Oh."

"Can I ask you something?"

In this early morning light, he looks younger. She's always thought he had attractive qualities, but here, out of uniform, he looks…good. As quickly as she tucks a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear, she pushes the thought aside and asks, "What?"

"Where does you power come from?"

Unprepared to give a lesson on her past as a senshi, the Silver Millennium or being a princess from another planet, she says, "It just does."

"Are you an alien?"

"I don't know, you got a look at all my parts, do I look like an alien to you?"

"Not exactly." She's glad to see there's a hint of a blush on those sharp cheekbones.

"Give or take, I'm your average young lady."

"I have a difficult time believing that." He stands up and says, "Let me get you something to change into."

"Thanks."

Mina waits patiently, idly cursing her inability to make small talk. Why does she even care? Williams isn't worth anything. He's just a cop. He hasn't provided any special help. If he hadn't taken care of her, Serena would've come along and healed her, the same as usual. He comes back into the room and, depositing the clothes on the bed, says, "I'll give you a few minutes."

After a few tries, Mina is distraught and embarrassed when she can't physically get herself out of the bed. Tentatively, she calls out, "Williams?"

He's there in a moment and asks, "Yes?"

"Can you," she pauses, catches her breath, and asks "Can you help me up?"

"Sure."

She's surprised what the contact with him does. Surprised that there is a fair amount of muscle hiding under the oversized Army sweatshirt he's wearing. Surprised that she want to lean into the smell of him. Maybe she was knocked on the head as well.

Once they are at a standing position, he asks, "Where to?"

"The bathroom would be great."

They make little progress when, without asking, Williams gently sweeps her up and carries her to the bathroom. Grunting as he puts her down, she says, "You didn't need to do that."

Ignoring her comment, he asks, "Are you hungry?"

"Sure." Not wanting to promote further conversation, she shuffles into the bathroom and gingerly steps into the tub, turning on the faucet. The hot water works wonders on her battered body and much as she wants to hide out, she finally turns off the water, dries off and steps into the oversized clothes Williams left out for her. The button down oxford shirt and boxers are somehow exactly garments she associates with him.

Opening the door in a cloud of steam, Mina instantly perks up at the smell of breakfast foods. From the door way in the kitchen, she watches Williams. He's lost in cooking, humming poorly along to the radio. For such a stoic man, this scene seems out of place – a slice of his life she shouldn't be allowed to see. He finally looks around and spots her small frame in the doorway. If he's embarrassed, he doesn't show it. Munching a piece of bacon, he says, "You're not who I thought you were going to be."

She crosses the kitchen and sits down carefully, mindful of her injuries and asks, "What do you mean?"

"Your public persona."

"Ah, that old thing." The Sailor Venus presented to the public is a carefully constructed version of herself. She always wears the mask from her days as Sailor V to hide her identity and tries to come across as bubbly and immature. It's rare, but from the beginning she's let more of her actual personality come through when around Williams.

"I think I like the real you better."

Proving her internal armor isn't as tight as she thought it was, Mina blushes. Although she wouldn't admit to it, late at night, in the back room of the Crown, she's researched Trevor Williams. He's been in town about four years, transferred in after some classified missions with the military. On paper, it's almost as if he didn't exist until walking into town. The mystery nags at her. Where did he grow up? Did he have a high school sweetheart? Why did he move here?

"Bacon?" Williams interrupts her thoughts. "Or is that part of the senshi diet?"

"This senshi says 'fuck it.'" Mina nimbly plucks a piece and eats it, savoring the taste.

Williams watches her, somehow glad she can find joy in something as simple as a piece of food. In this moment, he realizes, he will do almost anything to keep her in his small loft. Knowing that as soon as she returns to the real world that forces will tear them apart, that she'll be called upon to defend the city once again from some terror that he has no hope of saving her from… Instead, he says, "There's more where that came from."

"Where are we exactly?" she asks, even though she knows exactly where the apartment is. In part of her research into Williams, she found where he lived.

"We're close to where you call home, don't worry about that."

Her blue eyes widen and she asks, "How do you know where I live?"

"Minako Aino. Aged 18. Daughter of…"

"That's enough. How did you find out?"

"A strand of hair."

"Damn."

"Don't worry – I haven't shared the information with anyone. In fact, I called your parents to let them know you were safe."

Mina sighs, knowing it's pointless to fight or rage against the machine. She says, "Thank you."

"And I also, ahem, sent an anonymous tip to your friends."

"No doubt they think I've been kidnapped and you're going to put me up for ransom."

"There's a tempting idea," he says, only half kidding. Shooting him a look, Williams responds, "I think they've had their hands full. Anyway, you'll be back to them today. I could tell you you're not battle ready, but I think you would disagree with me."

"You'd be correct."

"Fine, finish your meal and I'll drop you off."

The threat of leaving the apartment makes her sad somehow. Although she's been largely unconscious for the entirety of her time here, somehow, in his space she feels at peace – rested. Williams busies himself cleaning up the dishes, still trying to shake the feeling that she belongs here.

"Where's my uniform?"

"I tried to wash it…but the damage was relatively severe. I hope you have a spare."

She's got plenty – they seem to naturally appear when she transforms, but isn't sure how she feels about a civilian with a trophy from her.

"The shoes?"

He smiles and collects a scuffed pair of heels, presenting them as if priceless heirlooms over his forearm in front of her. He says, "I have no idea how you run or fight in these. You have both my sympathy and admiration."

There's something in his action that gives her a definite sense of déjà vu. She shakes her head, knowing it's impossible. This is the first time she's been alone with him, let alone out of her shoes. She takes them and shrugs, not wanting to admit there was a small pang seeing her petite heels next to his much larger boots, "Thanks."

She scoops some cheesy eggs onto a piece of toast and finishes her breakfast. Not wanting to seem an ungrateful guest, she brings her plate to the sink. Placing her hands on either side of the ceramic, she takes a minute to gather her strength. Unable to help himself, he steals up behind her. He tries to tell himself it's so he can chivalrously assist her if she needs his help. In reality, it's that he yearns to be closer to her. She turns around, bumping directly into his chest. His heart rate increases exponentially and if he's not mistaken, hers jumps up too.

A delicate finger moves up to meet his face, tracing his lips. His gray eyes lock on her lips. She may be a young woman with superpowers but in this moment, she's something else entirely. The attraction, the spark he's been trying to ignore won't go away. She puts her hand down. He places his hand around her waist. She's warm beneath his touch.

"Mina…"

"Yes, Williams?"

"You should probably move."

"Should I?"

"Yes."

"And why is that?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, he lowers his mouth to hers. Ignoring the pain, she gladly opens to him, yielding her lips and putting her arms around his neck, pressing herself against his broad chest. Beneath his oversized shirt her sensitive nipples harden, creating glorious friction that neither can ignore. Lost in the embrace, in a flash of realization, she remembers why the shoes seem familiar and the memory jolts her out of the moment.

_ Another lifetime…_

Bored with yet another diplomatic ball and fortunate enough to have the Outer Senshi on location to act as protection, Princess Venus is allowed a rare night off. Taking off her shoes, she leaves them near a bench and heads for the inner sanctuary of the gardens, luxuriating in the feel of the cool grass against her bare feet. Her gown trailing behind her, she collects her thoughts. Terran generals were in residence tonight and protocol dictated she dance with each of them at least once. Altogether, they were a surprisingly pleasant group. They were fair and treated Venus and the other senshi as equals.

"_Rinvla_?"

Hearing her native tongue spoken by someone not from her planet, Venus perks up and notices a man lurking in the shadows.

"Yes?"

"I found these, are they yours?" he presents the golden sandals formally, draping the dainty creations over his broad forearm.

"Yes, how did you know?" she easily places him, one of the Generals. The tall one from the Middle Eastern region with serious eyes and a sensual mouth. Her mind quickly shifts through information, trying to lock on something similarly impressive as his correct use of her title and language.

"It is my duty to notice such things."

"And is it your duty to surprise young women in private gardens?"

"Sometimes my work overlaps my interests."

"And that's what I am? An interest?" She can't help her response; flirtation comes naturally. Words and glances never meant. Secrets traded for a smile from her lips.

"Perhaps. Perhaps you have something interesting to share with me."

She barely manages to keep her eyebrows from rising in surprise. Keeping a serene mask on her face, she wonders if the General shows this side elsewhere. To date, he's been reserved, concentrated. The attitude doesn't match with the cavalier treatment of her shoes.

"What is it? Mina?"

"I need to go."

And just like that, she slips away, leaving him to wonder what he did wrong. Had he come on too strong? He thought she had felt something, that her response to his kiss was an expression of what had been bubbling between them for weeks, but perhaps he was mistaken. In a blur, she waltzes out the door, stuttering on high heels – out of his life, leaving him alone once again.

Still clad in her haphazard outfit of a man's shirt, boxers, and stilettos, Mina gets her bearings and dashes to the apartment of Mamoru Chiba. Bypassing the speechless doorman, she angrily punches the button for his floor in the lift and, finally reaching his floor, bangs on the entrance to his apartment. He opens the door to a blonde warrior bounding through.

"The girls are worried about you."

Ignoring the twinge in her side, she says, "This is more important. The stones, Mask. Tell me."

While the energy she's just expended catches up with her, she all but falls on the futon couch while he retrieves the box. Taking a seat across from her, keeping the object shut, he says, "The best I can figure, there was an unexpected lunar event some time ago."

"That's not enough."

Keeping his eyes on the box, he admits, "I knew they were nearby."

"Does Serena know?"

"No, although as their presence grows stronger, I believe she will be able to sense them soon."

"Why?"

"Why didn't I tell you about them? Why didn't I go to them?" He runs a hand through his thick dark hair and continues, "I wanted them to have a chance at an uncomplicated life – one they've earned. After two times of my failure to save them, I have to believe that a life away from me, from all of us, is their best chance at happiness."

"And the rest of the senshi?"

"I wasn't sure if you were meant to find each other—"

Before she knows what she's doing, a loud slap sounds across the room. It is the only time she has laid hands on her liege. Hand shaking, she says, "That is not your decision to make. You've found happiness. You've saved the woman you're going to spend the rest of eternity with. Do you not think it selfish that you have these luxuries that we do not? Duty, honor, commitment – these values are all important but once you ascend the throne, what will we have?"

Mamoru remains silent.

Mina departs.

She wanders for awhile, oblivious to the stares and finds herself at the safe house. Given the large geography of the city, the senshi have invested in various apartments that they keep extra gear and first aid kits on hand. Realizing how injured she really is, Mina barely manages to stagger into the room (opened biometrically) before passing out in the bed.

Her dreams, tinged with fever, are a mixture of the past and present. Of failures and successes. The meeting in the garden was the start of a torrid, passionate affair which ended horribly. How could Williams be that man? Why did they have to come across each other? Couldn't she exist without him? Why were they stuck in this endless cycle of reincarnation?

A cool hand on her forehead awakes her. It's small and dainty. Without opening her eyes, Mina says, "Ami."

"You had us worried."

"Sorry."

"Why here?"

Mina rolls over onto her non-injured side, slightly disappointed it's not Williams here with her and says, "I wasn't ready to come back."

"What happened? Who found you? I scoured CCTV feeds but couldn't find a trace of your location. Artemis is nearly going out of his fur."

"Williams."

"Who?"

To date, Mina has given very little away about the detective. As well as her sister senshi know her, they will easily be able to pick up on her interest. Trying to mumble, Mina hopes that Ami isn't going to be as perceptive as usual and says, "He works for the police."

"Does he?"

"Yes. He can be trusted."

Ami lets the subject drop and asks, "Are you ready to rejoin us?"

"Not yet. Also, I should ask you, am I physically ready?"

"More or less. You're prone to breaking those particular ribs, but they'll heal."

The ribs were shattered by Kunzite's broadsword in another lifetime, but Mina tries not to see the relevance today. She asks, "How long can you hold off everyone?"

"A few more days." Ami pauses and asks, "Is there something else?"

Mina thinks of what she's learned – how her world has been turned upside down. How is she supposed to tell Williams he's her long lost soul mate? That he's betrayed her? That they've killed each other? And for the others – that perhaps their lovers are in the city. That Mamoru has been hiding this information.

"Nothing."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

_Are you going to hurt yourself?_ _Did you do this on purpose?_ The unspoken questions linger in the air. Mina forces a smile and says, "Just another day and I'll be back to you. Promise. Scout's honor."

The terrible joke from their early days seems to set Ami at ease. She points to the nightstand and says, "There are some drugs. If the pain is too much."

"Thanks."

"Come back to us soon."

Mina's eyelids flutter as a pair of soft lips press against her forehead.

The dreams continue and she awakes. Mamoru's words come back to her. Would Williams' life be better without her? Has she deserved him? Will he ever remember their shared past? She can't very well leave the city and he will be here – forever testing her patience and the limit of her commitment to duty.

Getting out of bed she binds her ribs and looks in the closet to clothes that will fit her.

She comes to a decision.

His clothes, cleaned and returned and smelling sweetly of jasmine, appear on his porch the next day. Of the Venusian senshi, he sees her no more. She does not drop in to crime scenes. If one of the senshi need to interact with the police department, it is not her.

After trying to look for her, he gets the message – she does not want to be found. He keeps her identity a secret. He moves from the apartment – the time spent in it with her is too painful a memory.

Years pass.

The sharp pain moves to a dull ache.

The royal couple ascends their thrones.

All is well in the world.

Peace and prosperity find humanity.

The King and Venus do not speak of the stones.

After the coronation, Venus finds herself in a park – alone with her thoughts. And although she thinks him a mirage, Williams more or less appears in front of her. If either is surprised, they don't show it. They stand in silence and the sounds of those at play surround them.

"You're here."

"I am," he says.

Although she's wanted to look him up, to track him – she hasn't allowed herself. From the moment of her decision, he has always presented too big a distraction, a door that once opened cannot be shut. That he's still here means the world to her. She glances quickly at his strong, capable hands and does not spot a wedding ring.

Without a word, he takes her hand.

She doesn't care if he knows about their past, or if it will be a tale she tells him later. She doesn't worry. She is finally home. They will talk later of the sacrifice, of the years wasted. They will remain quiet of other lovers or terrible thoughts. For now, all that exists is their future, the sunlight and the potential of tomorrow.


	72. This

_AN: K, mostly, w/some V. M rating._

**This.**

This is where we met.

This is where I saw you first, a stern look in those unforgettable blue eyes as you chased after your wayward monarch. I told you, 'Must be difficult having a bundle of curiosity for a princess.' The day was clear and bright, with the scent of roses perfuming the air.

This is where we discussed strategy, love, honor, and above all, duty. You impressed me with your deep understanding of the various planetary conflicts. You laughed at me when I wouldn't yield to your attempts at humor. Your comprehension of what it was to serve - without question, without yield, struck a chord deep within me. You were nothing what you seemed.

This is where I fell in love with you. As much as I steeled myself against emotions, you broke through. You were intelligent, a goddess in your own right – what choice did I have in the matter? How was it that you chose me? What did you see? I, the man who had no time or energy for the emotion, found myself consumed.

This is where we made love for the first time – a stolen tryst during the engagement ball between our prince and princess. I couldn't wait longer and neither could you. The frantic embraces we had shared up until then were not enough. I had your dress around your waist and your clever hands had me out of my trousers before either of us could question the sanity of our actions. I took you hard against this tree, both of us grasping for breath while your nails scored my back. When you cried out and I followed immediately, utterly spent, you tasted like sunshine.

This is where you told me of rumors – terrible things that I couldn't believe. You attempted to get me to understand, but I wouldn't listen. The red witch had already stolen me away from you.

This is where we met again - a battlefield unlike all others. You, a warrior goddess with tears in her eyes and a sword in her hand. You were breathing heavily, looking at me with some emotion I could not comprehend. Against some part of myself screaming against the action, I came after you. You parried, we sparred – cutting into the other, carving away until dual fatal blows were dealt.

This is where we passed to Hell, Heaven or whatever destination the cauldron had in mind for our poor souls.


	73. Rule the World

**Rule the World**

_"Welcome to your life  
There's no turning back  
Even while we sleep  
We will find you_

_Acting on your best behaviour_  
_Turn your back on mother nature_  
_Everybody wants to rule the world_

_It's my own design_  
_It's my own remorse_  
_Help me to decide_  
_Help me make the most_

_Of freedom and of pleasure_  
_Nothing ever lasts forever_  
_Everybody wants to rule the world_

_There's a room where the light won't find you_  
_Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down_  
_When they do I'll be right behind you_

_So glad we've almost made it_  
_So sad they had to fade it_  
_Everybody wants to rule the world."_

**_ - Everybody Wants to Rule the World_**_ (the Lorde cover inspired below)_

The conversation began as a joke as they lay in her chambers, all afterglow and transcendence. He couldn't recall who had made the comment – something about handling operations of the kingdom differently.

"If you were in command, what would you do?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Hypothetically."

"'Tis treason to even discuss such a situation." A gloriously naked Venus ignored the Shitennou's comment and stood up, well aware of the grey eyes on her and poured them each a dram of the highly potent Mercurian elixir. Drinking quickly, as further warmth settled over Kunzite's tan features, he relaxed and said, "You would make a gorgeous regent."

"You could defeat Endymion."

"Could I?"

"You are without equal wielding a sword."

"As are you, my pet."

Venus looked at the Sword of the Moon, lying casually in the corner, her chain draped over the hilt. Looking back at her bed partner, she said, "The Sword is powerful, yes, but not enough to take on the other senshi or the great stone."

"Nor could I defeat the other Shitennou on my own."

"Do you think they would ever join you?"

"No. Would the senshi?"

"I don't think so. Or, not without reason."

"And what reason would that be?"

"This is a hypothetical world we're speaking of, yes?"

"Of course."

"We were brought up in the same ideals you were," she answered. "Loyalty, honor, obedience to our monarchs. Pride in our home planets and kingdoms."

"Difficult lessons to overcome."

"But sometimes power can corrupt."

"Would that be your approach in overtaking Serenity? I do not think your people would respond or believe such a thing."

"And for Endymion?"

"There is already distrust. Not only for the Lunar princess, but also her mother the Queen. The relationship between our sovereigns breeds discontent among certain Terran factions."

Venus toyed with a strand of her long blonde hair and asked, "And how would they feel about a Venusian on the throne?"

"We're betrothed?"

"In this scenario, yes." They both know marriage is impossible in any other circumstance except fiction.

"Coups have happened previously."

"Not recently."

"You know our history?" He was forever surprised by her depth of knowledge and intelligence surrounding politics on Earth.

"I study things that interest me."

"And am I of interest to you?"

Venus looked at him and said, "My lord, I believe you know the answer to that question. I've examined you quite closely."

If a blush threatened his sharp cheekbones, he didn't dignify it. Rather, he was more focused on blood pooling in other places on his person. Raising his hand, he said, "You digress."

She smiled and answered, "You are distracting."

"Our history?" he prompted.

"Yes. Endymion's line has ruled for generations. I believe your population would be amenable to change."

"You do."

"Yes."

"Why is it you would usurp Serenity?" he changed the subject.

Venus walked to the window and answered, "She is too naïve."

"Some people see her innocence as hope."

"It is not realistic."

"Why?"

"Is it wrong to want more out of those who lead? I do not discredit Serenity. She is an optimist, someone who finds the best in everyone. Her love makes her strong."

"But?"

"We are inherently flawed. Thinking the best of someone does not mean they will always act in the interest of the kingdom."

"It's a good thing she has someone like you to protect her."

"So it is."

_AN: This is either the start of something darker, or just a weird character study, I haven't decided._


End file.
